Life In A New Era
by Ehwaz-Ansuz-Kano
Summary: Hajime Saito and Tokio Takagi live in Tonami together as exiles. Both find they are living not because they wanted to survive, but because no one had killed them. They find the will to live because of love and together they begin life in a new era.
1. Chapter 1: Tonami, 1871, Part 1

**Tonami, Japan, 1871**

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She noticed Kurasawa's companion sitting across from him in seiza. He was tall, dark haired, dressed in a white kimono with a black obi. His head was to her as she entered, Kurasawa, dressed in a subdued shade of gray with a darker gray obi, looked up at her entrance. She bowed quickly to both men and came over with the tea tray.

She began the progress of serving the two men, politely serving Kurasawa first as he was of higher rank. When she began serving Kurasawa's guest she was aware of his expressionless face, narrow eyes, and high cheekbones. His face was that of an unforgiving warrior.

She wondered what such an individual was doing here with Kurasawa. It was true that he sponsored Aizu and people closely related to the Aizu and helped them relocate to Tonami, but this man seemed dangerous. He had an air about him that hinted that he'd seen bloodshed many times. Perhaps even recently…

After serving she retreated to the side, watching the two men carefully. Kurasawa didn't say anything immediately which was strange for him seeing as he was usually a talkative man.

When he did speak it was after both men sipped their tea and replaced them in their holders. Usually Kurasawa would make a passing compliment to her about its good qualities, but he seemed almost pensive today, much unlike him. His voice was indifferent, "Goro Fujita-san?"

The man, now indicated as Goro Fujita, raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Or should I address you by the name you took while in Echigo Province? Ichinose Denpachi?"

Goro's eyes narrowed even more, but there was a soft upward turn of his lips which she assumed was his way of smiling. "Fujita suits me better."

Echigo Province? Then this man must be an Aizu warrior or at least someone who'd fought on the side of the Bakufu during the revolution.

"Goro-san," Kurasawa chuckled as his companion just stared blankly, "I suppose I should welcome you here. It surprised me when I was told you were alive, but if you're still as you were in the old days, I shouldn't be so stunned, eh?"

He sipped his tea, "I wonder who told you such information? Have you spies watching me?"

Kurasawa smiled pleasantly, "A little bird told me, so they say." He chose to acknowledge her existence then and smiled. "I suppose introductions would be polite of me. Tokio-san was the daughter of the Aizu retainer Kojuro Takagi-san. Goro-san here was formerly known in the days of the Bakufu as Hajime Saito, leader of the third squad of the Shinsengumi."

He was one of those Wolves of Mibu? Shinsengumi…hm…not many of those wolves were alive in this era, especially upper ranking members. She wondered as she looked at Hajime Saito how he had survived as long as this. His answering response was to glance at her briefly with that same stoic expression.

Kurasawa drank some tea before saying, "You'll be staying here I take it?"

"Unfortunately for one of us."

"Me or you?" Kurasawa chuckled, "I think I'm the one worse off here. First you'll be housing here and with your attitude you'll likely scare off my other residents."

"Humph."

"You're mood today is deplorable. Cheer up and relax, this isn't the Bakumatsu anymore. Perhaps some sake would lighten your disposition?"

"I don't drink sake."

"Why not?"

Saito's eyes took on a slightly malicious look, his face still unmoving. "I've a tendency to violence when intoxicated."

"You have such a tendency without the sake, Goro-san. A little will not worsen it much," Kurasawa smiled at his indifferent friend. Saito was going to be living here in Kurasawa's residence? She didn't like that idea, she'd have to warn the other ladies about this man's 'tendency with sake' among other things. It would be better if they stayed from his sight as much as possible. She hoped Kurasawa wasn't planning on letting this Shinsengumi man stay for an extended period.

The conversation halted for a time, Kurasawa still his cheery self while the other man sat demurely. A sheep letting a wolf sit beside him and the wolf not chopping the poor sheep to pieces. How bizarre. She was sure the katana at the man's side had seen bloodshed countless times. It sent a little shiver up her spine when her thoughts turned down that road.

Kurasawa talked quietly mentioning something about the full moon tonight, wolves, and stupid actions. Saito stood up and with a polite bow took his leave.

Kurasawa looked at her with a bemused look, "That man, really how rude. I was in the middle of talking …but he knows how things work," he nodded his head in appreciation. "I wonder if he listened to Hijikata-sama as well as he does me? Toshizo Hijikata-sama wasn't one for insubordination they say."

"Did you know Hijikata-san personally?"

He shook his head, "'The Demon of the Shinsengumi' and I, only lowly little Kurasawa Hieimon, never met. And I'm grateful. He was a fearsome man from what I've heard. Even more a wolf than Hajime Saito. And you know, Tokio-san?"

"Yes, Kurasawa-sama?"

"Hijikata-sama deserves the title -sama more then I do, surely." He smiled and she smiled back. She loved Kurasawa for his warmth and gentle nature. "Besides you know I hate such formality with you."

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Suddenly the shoji slid open revealing Yaso Shinoda. Tokio, playing Japanese chess with Haruna, stared at the wide eyed look on Yaso's face.

"Did you meet him," asked Amane before any of the others could speak up.

"Yes." So far the only one of them who'd met Hajime Saito had been Tokio, but she'd refused to say much when prompted by the other ladies of Kurasawa's household. All she'd told them was that he was a man to avoid, which had only fueled their foolish determination to at least see the Wolf of Mibu.

"What kind of man is he?" Satsuki glanced up at Yaso as she braided her hair.

"He's…" she took a breath, "a cold man. He barely said a word to me. Kurasawa-san was all politeness to that man! I don't get it…why does Kurasawa let that…that…Miburo stay here? He's frightening!"

Haruna, Satsuki, Amane, and Yaso gathered together and began chirping like birds. Tokio sat watching them; she just wanted to finish her game. Stupid wolf distracting everyone. Now the ladies would talk of nothing for the next couple of weeks expect that man. And then it would start all over again when another one of them met him. She sighed, why did they always get so excited over visitors or new residents? She could understand the initial curiosity over new members to the household, but Hajime Saito was not someone any of them should be associated with.

It wasn't the fact that he was Shinsengumi that she disliked him. Aizu had actually sponsored the Shinsengumi so she couldn't bring herself to hate him for any Bakufu reasons. Nor entirely did her dislike rest on his personality. In fact she found his personality almost refreshing. She was sick of the gossiping hens around her and Kurasawa, the only man she was close to, was a kind warm person. He was the yin to Kurasawa's yang. Perhaps that was why Kurasawa liked him? Hm...a thought for another time. She disliked the Shinsengumi Wolf for a more simple reason. He murdered people remorselessly. She'd heard the stories about him, how he killed in the name of 'Aku Soku Zan.' He was like a descending falcon diving in to snatch up evil.

She shuddered, such unsavory thoughts. She frowned, Yaso's voice suddenly distracting her. Perhaps a little distraction was necessity right now.

"He's not handsome, I'll just say that first off," great they were still talking about him. "I mean he's tall and muscular looking, but his face. He's just so…ugly." Good sentiment, she mused, agreeing with Yaso. "And scary looking, what with his silences and his dark looks. He looks evil," she pronounced with a shake of her head. Another agreement on her side, he did look evil. So why wasn't that and his reputation enough to make them realize they should forget about Hajime Saito?

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Words below are used through the next chapters also. Any new words not included here will be explained in the chapter they appear in. I hope everyone enjoys. If Saito is OC, sorry, this is my first RK story. Please R&R.

Japanese words/places/groups

Ai shiteru-passionate Japanese for 'I love you'

Aizuwakamatsu-clan capital, Aizuwakamatsu Castle was under siege for a month in 1868, but surrendered. Tsuruga Castle is another name for Aizuwakamatsu Castle. After the fall, Teruhime, Katamori, and Matsudaira Nobunori, Katamori's adopted son, were all placed under house arrest at Myokokuji temple and most Aizu soldiers became prisoners of war.

Bakumatsu-the last days of the Tokugawa shogunate; Was very chaotic and there was constant fighting between the supporters of the shogunate and the supporters of the emperor (Ishin Shishi, aka Choshu/Satsuma/Kenshin's side during the war)

Bira bira-also called fluttering or dangling style of kanzashi (hair ornament worn in Japanese women's hair) these are composed of metal strips attached by rings to the body of the ornament so that they move independently, pleasantly tinkling

Bogu-name for the protective armor worn during sword practice, parts include men, do, kote, and tare

Bokken-wooden practice sword

Bushido-samurai code followed for thousands of years in Japan. The core values of Bushido were rectitude, courage, benevolence, respect, honesty, honor, and loyalty among other things. Also important tenets were respect for lower ranking people and conducting oneself with calmness, fairness, justice, and propriety

-Chan-informal ending used with best friends and relatives

Daisho-term for the wakizashi and katana samurai wear

Do-torso protector, aka breastplate. The target areas of the do are the two lower sides for a slashing cut to the stomach. The top half of the do is a valid target for a thrust in naginata and use to be for a sword, but isn't permitted in sword practice nowadays

Hakama-Japanese pants

Haori-jacket that goes over the kimono (think of the Shinsengumi uniform, the blue jacket)

Hasso-no-kamae/tonbo-no-kamae-the Tonbo-no-kamae has the sword held vertically above the shoulder, the only difference between tonbo-no-kamae and hasso-no-kamae is that tonbo is held higher, used in Jigen-ryu

Hatamoto-upper vassals of the shogun and were allowed to hold audiences with him, where considered to be higher up than the Gokenin

Hitokiri-Japanese for "manslayer" or "assassin"

Fundoshi-Japanese loincloth worn throughout Japan before Americans made boxers and briefs common. Every male wore fundoshi, but there are many different forms. I'm assuming Saito probably wore this type of fundoshi because he was an active person. This type of fundoshi is formed when the cloth is wound around the hips so that there is an excess of apron, which is brought back again between the legs and twisted around the belt-cloth in back. It was also the standard male bathing suit

Fusuma-movable dividing walls in Japan, typically a Japanese house consisted of one room with fusuma dividing them into smaller parts, typically a bathroom (a bathhouse is separate from the toilet), toilet, and genkan (look below) with one multipurpose living space create one complete Japanese housing unit

Genkan-a small entryway level to outside, the house is a step higher. Adjacent to the lower floor is a shelf or cabinet called a getabako where people store their shoes. Slippers for wear in the home are also stored in the getabako

Geta scandals-Geta sandals are any sandal with a separate heel. The wooden geta sandal is the most well known

Gokenin-rank of shogun's direct vassal, they did not have the right to a private audience with the shogun as the Hatamoto did

Iaigoshi-a stance where the feet are parallel and the body faces the opponent

Ikebana-Japanese flower arrangement, very different than a bouquet of flowers in the U.S. Japanese often incorporate stems and leaves.

Ishin-no-Sanketsu-translated as 'three great nobles of the restoration.' Kido Takayoshi aka Kogoro Katsura (Kenshin worked for Katsura), Saigo Takamori, and Okubo Toshimichi

Ishin shishi-usually Choshu, Satsuma, and Tosa clan members, anti-shogunate and usually pro-sonno-joi 'revere the emperor, expel the barbarians', fought against the Shinsengumi (The group Kenshin worked for, Katsura from OVA Trust and Betrayal was a Choshu, several higher up Meiji government officials were former Ishin shishi)

Jigai-name for women's form of seppuku

Jigen-ryu-style of swordsmanship that puts emphasis on the first strike: Jigen-ryu teachings state that a second strike is not even to be considered, founded by Togo Chui in the late 16th century in Satsuma Province

Juban-a slip worn under a kimono for warmth and to accent the collar

Kadomatsu-tree sprigs put in the entranceway

Kagamimochi-flat round rice cakes

Kaiken-a dagger carried by samurai men and women. Useful for self-defense indoors when a katana and wakizashi were too inconvenient. Women carried them in their obi or in a brocade pouch with drawstrings for easy access. The kaiken was usually given to women as a wedding gift

Koishii-'darling' in Japanese

Koi shiteru-affectionate form of 'I love you.'

Kote-hand and forearm protectors, aka gauntlets. The target area is the wrist portion of each kote

Men-facemask and shoulder protector worn during practice, aka helmet. The target areas of the men is the center top, and upper left and right sides for cutting strikes and the center of the throat protector for a thrust.

Menkyo Kaiden-level in swordsmanship, highest level nest to soke (just a note: the real Saito was called a master, but no one seems to be sure what style of swordsmanship he used, Okita was a Kaiden, Hijikata was a Mokuroku (one of the lowest levels), and Kondo was a Shihan (Shihan is another word for Soke, a headmaster of a dojo)

Montsuki-formal black kimono

Naginata-a shaft of wood with a curved blade on the end, usually there is a sword-like guard called a tsuba between the blade and shaft, it was used by samurai women in Japan and a functional naginata was a traditional part of a samurai daughter's dowry

Nakano Takeko-famous Aizu warrior who fought with a naginata who lived from 1847 to 1868, fought in the Battle of Aizu and was hit with a bullet, had her sister cut her head off and bury it because she didn't want an enemy to capture it as a trophy

Nemaki-gauze lined sleeping robe or yukata

Onna-'woman' in Japanese

Saikeirei-"most respectful bow" kneeling bow where one's forehead touches the floor, considered to be the most respectful bow

Sake-rice wine

Saigyo-aka Norikiyo Satoh, warrior, monk, and poet

-Sama-most formal ending, usually reserved for teachers, peers, and respected adults

-San-polite form of address, used on everyone someone wouldn't use -chan or -sama on

Seiza-formal sitting position, buttocks rest on knees, hands rest in lap or at the side (side note: Saito was said to sit seiza even when resting and informal situations)

Shimenawa and shide-a sacred rope of straw with dangling white paper strips called shide, used to prevent evil from entering the house and to show the toshigami

Shinsengumi-"Newly Selected Corps"; Group that supported the shogun; sponsored by the Aizu clan, it was their duty to patrol the streets of Kyoto; also known as the Wolves of Mibu or Miburo

Sugegasa-Japanese word for straw hat worn in Asian countries to protect from sun and rain

Seppuku-men's form of ritual suicide, the person committing seppuku cuts his stomach with his wakizashi, after the cut and sometimes during his second, usually a close friend or relative, nearly decapitates him, leaving only a think layer of skin connecting the head to the body, seppuku is done to restore one's honor after bringing shame to their name or to avoid being captured during war time

Tare-leg and groin protector. Tare is merely for protection purposes so it doesn't have a target.

Tatami scandals and mats-tatami scandals are any flat bottomed scandals, the tatami mats is the floor for most Japanese rooms, tatami is another name for zori scandals

Tatehiza-sitting on your left foot with your right leg against your side and foot facing forward, a stance used to practice sword drawing technique

Toshidana-a special altar that is piled high with foods for the toshigami

Toshigami-spirits who bring New Year with them

Wakizashi-ceremonial sword used to commit seppuku, worn with the katana

Wara-soaked and bound rice straw with a bamboo core, used for practicing cuts, nowadays their made from tatami mats wrapped around bamboo and are called Goza (If you've seen Trust and Betrayal younger Kenshin cuts through one in front of Katsura)

Yukata-lightweight cotton summer kimono

Zabuton-"sitting futon' a cushion used for seiza sitting

Zori scandals-flat bottomed scandals, also called tatami scandals


	2. Chapter 2: Tonami, 1871, Part 2

She sat down before the pond. Colorful fish swam around, some jumping out of the water as if in greeting. She smiled, slipping her bare feet into the coolness of the water. How relaxing. The sunlight on her skin as she tilted her head to meet its smiling rays made her warm. She was glad that winter was almost over. She hated winter, especially in Edo. Edo… or Tokyo as it had been renamed…she'd grown up there with her family. She had not thought of that city for a long time, so much had changed since those days.

She glanced around as she heard footsteps and voices. Yaso, Amane, and the other women came outside, chatting like schoolgirls. She watched them cluster around the small garden fountain, dressed in bright colored kimono. Yaso looked particularly lovely today, her lips painted the same red as her kimono. Amane, dressed in a yellow kimono, waved at her. She waved back at them.

Satsuki in a blue kimono and Haruna in a yellow one, noticing her also, waved. None of them signaled that they wanted her company, but she was grateful. She just wanted to sit in the bright sun, enjoy the sudden pleasant weather for February, and watch the fish. A pretty sparkling fish brushed his fin against the bottom of her foot, making her squeak with pleasure. Today was so wonderful. Perhaps later she'd take a walk up to the shrine with one of the ladies.

She heard him before she saw him. He was talking to a companion as he slid the shoji open. Kurasawa and Saito came outside. Kurasawa wore a plum colored kimono with a white obi. On her second encounter with Hajime Saito of the Shinsengumi he wore a navy blue kimono and white obi.

Kurasawa was talking quietly with Saito, looking interested in something Saito mumbled. The sheep by the fountain stared at the Wolf in innocent curiosity, not aware of truly how dangerous a remorseless killer like him was.

Ueda Schichiro entered right behind Saito and Kurasawa. Kurasawa looked taken aback while Saito looked unbothered. Ueda had been let inside by a servant who he now dismissed. When Kurasawa had first moved to Tonami he'd lived with Ueda in his household and they had only recently moved into this house.

Kurasawa and Ueda left the garden to discuss something in more private areas. She expected Saito to follow them into the house, but he didn't move even after the shoji slid shut behind Ueda. Did Ueda not trust Saito? Or was it merely a matter Ueda didn't think Saito would care for or needed to know about?

Saito stood near the house, looking out at the grazing sheep. Tokio watched him cautiously as he walked over to the ladies. She picked up her geta scandals and tabi socks and pulled her feet out of the water. She dried her feet with the inside of her kimono sleeve and put on the socks and scandals.

She hoped Amane, usually the quietest and the one she got along with best, would be up for a little walk as she approached the group wearily. Saito was listening to Satsuki talk, her blush all the way up to her eyes, Tokio noticed with confusion. Why would Satsuki blush talking to an ugly man like Saito? Hadn't Satsuki just last night proclaimed to all the ladies how ugly and evil Hajime Saito looked? Why the sudden change when he was around? She wondered if it was because Satsuki was nervous about offending a man who killed.

Yaso and Haruna were blushing too, nodding their heads nervously at what Satsuki had just said. She cleared her throat, getting a bewildered looked from Amane. The woman looked just as confused about the other girls' actions as she was.

She bowed to the group when they finally all acknowledged her presence. Bows were made in return. "I was wondering if anyone would like to accompany me to the shrine? It would be a long walk, but it is such a calm day today." She knew only Amane liked long hikes and the other women detested walking in their kimonos.

"I wouldn't mind taking a stroll," Amane replied, smiling.

Saito silent until this moment spoke suddenly, "I'll come. Women should not go out without escort, even in this era."

She stared in surprise, what? She'd wanted to walk with Amane to the shrine alone so she could get her opinion about this man and here he wanted to tag along? How annoying. She'd have to get Amane alone another time.

Satsuki, Haruna, and Yaso all said they'd come with too. She knew their reasons had nothing to do with the shrine or liking the walk. She frowned, why would they want to be around this strange man? She didn't understand their actions in the least.

She trailed behind with Amane. The other women followed closely behind the Wolf of Mibu. She glanced at Amane and smiled tightly, "They are acting strange."

"Indeed," Amane agreed.

"Why are they…" she wasn't sure of the right word to describe their actions, "acting the hypocrite? First they declare he's ugly and scary after they're initial meetings and now they are practically swooning over him."

Amane frowned a little before shrugging, "You have to understand, Tokio-san, he's an intimidating man to them. Whereas he makes me nervous because of his swords he overawes them with his commanding, uncompromising air. They are just in awe of him, that will give way to fear shortly I'm sure."

She wasn't so sure it would turn to fear so quickly, "What if he…used his…personality and reputation to…intimidate them." She wasn't sure if Amane would understand what she was implying.

Amane looked at her sharply, laughing suddenly. Satsuki and Haruna looked back at them with surprise. Amane waved at them politely before saying, "I think Yaso would have more self-respect then to allow such an…event to occur. The other two probably wouldn't need much pressuring from him," she chuckled with enjoyment. Tokio found nothing bemusing about a man using ignorant women for his own selfish pleasure.

The walk to the shrine was lovely. The air was still warm, pleasantly so in her mind. They walked the distance from Kurasawa's house in Gonohe village to the shrine just outside the village, passing some lands that had never been harvested. Tonami was known for its poor soil, so farming was more effort than it was worth. One couldn't fish in Tonami either because it didn't face the sea. So work was limited mostly to peddling things which most samurai looked down upon. She wondered if Saito was going to have to peddle things to make a living. Would he think ill of it? Probably.

The shrine came into view and they started up the steps. By now Haruna, Yaso, and Satsuki appeared exhausted. Saito, likely use to much more tedious work, hardly looked fazed. She felt a bit winded herself, but she enjoyed the feeling. Just as his feet touched the last step, Saito froze. Yaso gave a yelp as she reached the last step seconds behind him. Satsuki and Haruna came up behind her quickly and grasped almost in union. She shared a glance with Amane and both ran the rest of the way up.

She stopped short when she saw the man. He was turned away from them, his bloody sword at his side and a dead body at his feet. The dead looked to be a man who'd come from Gonohe to visit the shrine. Her throat grew tight as he turned around.

He had his long black hair tied back, expect for his bangs which framed his small face. He wore a black kimono with light blue hakama. He smiled, slinging his sword to rest on his shoulder. His eyes, a deep brown, watched Saito with amusement.

"Glad to see you've finally made it, Hajime Saito, captain of the third unit of the Shinsengumi."

She glanced at Saito, how did he know this man? "Who are you?" He didn't know this man! What?

The man looked insulted at that, but perked up readily enough. "I'm here to take my revenge on you for killing an old friend of mine. I'm sure you remember him. Tani Sanjuro…"

Saito blinked, "Can't say I recall a man named Tani, but then again I've killed a lot of people."

The man narrowed his eyes, "Damn Wolf! Killing is all men like you know! The Shinsengumi should just be a byword for murderers!"

"I can't really say you're wrong about the Shinsengumi bit," Saito pulled out a cigarette from the pack he'd taken out. The man stared in bewilderment as he lit it and let the match drop to the ground. "Of course the rest is…fictitious at best. I know much more than how to kill."

The man tensed instinctively at the look Saito was giving him, lowering his sword from his shoulder to straight in front of him. Saito took a long drag, that little half smile she'd seen him give to Kurasawa forming on his usually impassive face. "But," he held the man's eyes, "you can't claim to be so much better than me, you've just killed a man who had no connection to your revenge. You're a hypocrite…I dislike hypocrites."

"You're the hypocrite!" The man screamed, his body trembling. She realized suddenly that she was shaking too. She needed to do something, anything to prevent this man from dying. She couldn't believe he'd killed an innocent man, but…but…she didn't want anyone else to die.

She glanced at the other ladies. Haruna was crying, hiding behind Yaso's unmoving sticklike frame. The paleness of Yaso's face was not entirely because of her makeup. Satsuki was mumbling some words to Amane who stood just a few steps away from her stricken. None of these women needed to see this man die. She didn't need to see it either. She'd hoped she'd never have to see anymore people die. What a fruitless sentiment it was turning into…breath…she could still save this man...somehow…

"You're a fool," she stepped forward, stilling her shaking and digging into the inner strength she knew she processed. She could do this, for that man's sake and whatever loved one's he had. "Do you really think," she put on a haughty air, using all her skills to stare the man down, "that a weakling like you can defeat Hajime Saito of the Shinsengumi?" Here he looked over at Saito and back to her. His resolve was wavering. Good. "Hajime Saito was known to be as skilled as Souji Okita and Shinpachi Nagakura so to this man you're nothing more than an insect that needs to be eliminated." She saw his shoulders slump a little. It was working, she was demoralizing him. Now for the final blow. "Even the great Battousai feared him and couldn't defeat him. How can you some unknown unskilled swordsman possibly beat Hajime Saito?"

Saito, one arm crossed and the other putting the cigarette to his mouth, looked amused. "She's completely right," the man was looking a lot less confident about his skill. Ash fell from Saito's half smoked cigarette and fell to the ground. "But…Tokio-san," she nearly jumped at hearing him pronounce her name. The cold tone sent shivers up her spine. "You should refrain from continuing. Your efforts are futile. I'm going to kill this man whether or not he runs away because of your considerate words." He took a drag, the glance he gave her from the corner of his eye made her shudder. He'd understood her reasons right away. Damn it! Why couldn't he have been more of an idiot?

She saw his katana slide from his sheath with one fluid motion. Her skin crawled as he pointed his Japanese sword at the man before him. The man was trembling again, the sword in his hands wavering with his body.

"Prepare to die," he flung his cigarette to the ground. She watched the cigarette hit the paved stone of the shrine path and heard the yell. Saito noiselessly attacked his opponent who parried the blow. His frightened face and wide eyes stared at their crossed blades, his scream still echoing around the area. He jumped away and turning clumsily made to run for his life. His attempt was cut short by a quick thrust in the back by Saito.

She stared wide-eyed, her hand going to her mouth. His body collapsed to the ground. Blood gushed out, pouring over the even placed stone path. Blood gathered in the cracks between the stones. She wasn't here anymore though. She didn't hear Haruna's scream or Satsuki's thump as she hit the ground on her knees.

She saw a similar blood covered path. Her bare feet ran past a dead Aizu samurai, his blood spilling over the pavement. She swung her geta in her hand as she ran past; it was much easier to run without them on. She heard the sound of men behind her fighting for their lives and beliefs. She saw the fire then. Women ran beside her. She saw green eyes meet hers and then…then…

"Tokio-san?" A hand snapped in her face. She jumped, letting out a sound halfway between a scream and a squeal.

Reality came back with a shock of relief. Alright maybe not so much, she reflected when she saw the two bodies. But it was better here than there. Saito was turned away, facing the corpse of the man he'd just finished off. He was cleaning his blade with a piece of cloth he must have stripped off the dead man.

Amane was the one who'd said her name. The woman looked pale and tense, her back purposely to the dead behind her. Haruna was crying softly, trying to muffle her tears with the sleeve of her kimono. Satsuki, who'd gotten back to her feet after her fall, was trying to get Yaso to turn away from the sight, but the woman seemed unyielding.

Saito spoke up, "We should head back soon. Kurasawa-san will be expecting us shortly."

No one responded to his words and he hadn't really expected one. She went over to Haruna. She smiled weakly, "Har-san. Koishii, don't be sad. Here take my hand," Haruna had looked up when she'd said koishii, her brown eyes turning wide. She smiled bolder. Haruna buried her head into her shoulder, sobbing.

"I can't…believe…" Her tears choked out whatever else she'd meant to say. Satsuki had finally gotten Yaso to move to the steps and she was sitting silently now.

Saito lit another cigarette as he sat down on the top steps. She moved Haruna over to sit beside Amane, Yaso, and Satsuki down a couple steps from him. Yaso was talking softly to Satsuki and Amane. Whatever she was saying she looked dazed and stopped every now and then for a long time before continuing. She couldn't hear her words though because of Haruna's heavy crying. She took her geta off, putting them to the side.

"Don't be sad, Haruna-san," she said, looking out at the blue sky. Lazy gray clouds hinted that it might rain later. She hoped it didn't rain or thunderstorm tonight, Haruna was already going to have nightmares without the added stress of bad weather. Usually she liked rain, but it would be bad tonight. She wondered if she should have Haruna stay in her room tonight. She could set up a futon…

"There's no need for tears. Saito-san had to slay that man." Haruna's tears had started to subdue, but at the mention of the dead man intensified. "It was necessity, I suppose," she tightened her hand in Haruna's. "He was evil. Ako Soku Zan after all," she glanced back at Saito. Of course the taciturn man had heard her; she'd expect nothing less of a captain of the infamous Shinsengumi. He looked as removed as ever, even at her mention of his motto.

"What of the bodies," she directed to him.

She watched him take a lazy drag, his face still, only his eyes betrayed that he was calculating what to do about that. He lowered his hand, took another drag after a moment, and flicked off the ash with a sharp movement. "Nothing. I will notify the police when we go into Gonohe."

"They'll know you killed that man."

'Of course he realized that' his eyes said as he glanced down at her. His eyes returned to the sky when he replied, "I'll just say I found both men dead. No one will think anything else but that they quarreled and slew each other. You ladies will be good witnesses. Or we could just forget about this little event and let someone else deal with the disposal."

So calm and cool even in such a situation…was that because of his Shinsengumi days? How did he deal so easily with killing that man? Did he really feel no remorse? Of course not, she thought, to him it was all a part of his motto, there was no gray ground, one didn't compromise with evil by feeling regret. To him remorse was a wasted sentiment.

Emotionless bastard…

She stood, Haruna looked up at her with unshed tears still in her eyes. She pressed her sleeve to her face. "It's alright to cry, Haruna." She looked back at the woman, hardly twenty-one, who looked stricken with grief. "Tears are natural when someone dies. We should head back, Kurasawa will be waiting." Better that Haruna cry and feel than to bottle it all up, she mused, as she helped Haruna stand.

Like she was trying to do…like she'd been doing for years. She laughed, a half choked sound, startling everyone on the steps. "Did I ever tell you, Har-san, I was in Aizu in 1868," she asked as everyone started to walk the dirt path back to Gonohe. ".It was after the battle of Toba Fushimi." Saito was walking behind her and though she could not see him she could feel his eyes on her. "Aizuwakamatsu came under siege. Teruhime Matsudaira, the adopted sister of Matsudaira Katamori, commanded the women who helped. We mostly cooked, prevented fires from the cannonballs, cared for the injured and made bullets. I mostly helped take care of the dying, but I did help with some fires when necessity. It was…a sad time of my life. Probably the saddest." She looked at Haruna's surprised look and caught out of the corner of her eye the other women's stunned looks. Saito had a little smile on his face as if all this amused him.

"I saw many men die," she recalled, wincing as she remembered some bad moments. An Aizu warrior getting killed by a cannonball, his body flying through the air and smashing into the shoji of a nearby house. A young boy, hardly old enough to be a warrior, getting hacked to pieces by a more experienced swordsman as she watched from the castle. A spear going straight through an older man's gut. Her brain wanted her to scream all over again. She closed her eyes and reopened them, trying to focus on the here and now.

"I'm sure what you saw," Saito was talking, "could not equal that of someone on the battlefield. You didn't kill those men…" He seemed to be recalling his own memories, she reckoned. "Toba Fushimi was a mess and The Battle of Aizu, where I commanded, was much worse."

Where these thoughts would have disheartened and saddened most men he seemed thrilled at the thought. He chuckled, a sound that seemed evil to her ears. "But such interesting days are gone now. Men like me who survived such trials must learn how to live again in this time of peace."

They didn't stop in Gonohe village; apparently Saito didn't care about the bodies of his dead opponents. Kurasawa greeted them with a smile and a bow when Saito pushed open the shoji. After the bows were all exchanged, Kurasawa asked, "What took so long? And why does everyone look so demure?"

Saito explained everything, Kurasawa's charming smile soon faded into a hard frown. She rarely saw such a look on his face. It made her sadder to think he was upset. "I suppose you'll want to leave, Goro-san?"

Saito stood and left. Where was he going? Why did she care? It didn't matter where that murderer went. Kurasawa did not detain any of them for long. She went with Haruna to her apartment. Haruna didn't say anything as they walked, but she looked better than she had since the incident. Haruna asked if she'd stay the night when she noticed the dark sky. She agreed and a futon was set up.

She awake in the middle of the night. She pulled her nemaki up her shoulders; it had started to slip down in her sleep. She sat up. Haruna had moved from her own futon to sleep beside her. She carefully rose and went to the shoji. It led out to the garden. She shoved it open. It was still raining heavily. Each leaf and blade of grass was shining from the rain. The branches of the trees shook from the strong wind.

She moved further out, her nemaki whipped against her frame. She shivered as cold wind and raindrops splashed her face. How cold it had gotten since this morning. She sighed at the tragic turn of events. The day had started out so well and had ended in tears and bloodshed.

Haruna made a sound inside. She turned as Haruna sat up. She went back inside and closed the shoji tightly. She sat back down by Haruna. The woman looked sleepy, her hair disheveled and her nemaki half off her shoulders. She pushed it back up for her and settled beside her friend to go back to sleep. She closed her eyes. Blood on stone. A man in a black kimono with blue hakama. His body falling to the ground, his hand still clutching his sword as he died. Malicious golden wolf eyes watching his life slip away.

She awake silently, sunlight was streaming in from the open shoji. Haruna wasn't beside her. That would explain why she'd felt so cold. She sat up. Haruna came running inside when she saw that she'd awaken. "I picked some flowers," she smiled.

She watched Haruna arrange the flowers in a vase before her writing table. She picked up the folded kimono she'd grabbed from her room to change into. Haruna helped her tie her obi and style her hair.

She went to Kurasawa's room alone, leaving Haruna to go visit Satsuki. When it came to personalities Satsuki and Haruna got along well, but Haruna always came to her when she was scared or terrified. She had a feeling it had to do with the fact she looked more like Haruna's older dead sister than Satsuki. If her looks gave Haruna comfort she was grateful. Haruna deserved happiness, not anymore sorrow.

When she arrived Kurasawa gave her a small smile, setting down a letter he'd been reading. His smile was almost secretive, she bowed and he bowed slightly longer and deeper than was necessity which made her bow deeper and hold her position. This was strange behavior for Kurasawa. He usually only nodded or bowed slightly to her as he was her superior by a great deal, but he seemed to be doing this for a reason. He gestured to the mat in front of him. Watching him carefully she sat in seiza position.

"I'm grateful, Tokio-san, for your assistance and tact yesterday." She was confused and he saw that, "after you ladies left, Goro-san came back with Ueda-san and we talked. Ueda-san is not happy about the situation Goro-san put you ladies into. He feels Goro-san's staying here jeopardizes everyone's lives. Being a part of the Shinsengumi has made him an unlikable fellow. Not only will ronin and other samurai seeking fame, but family and loved ones of the men Goro-san has killed might try to take his life. Some won't be considerate to who he's housing with," Kurasawa looked deeply bothered by this.

"I would rather not see anything happen to any one here. But I owe…" His voice faltered, he looked troubled. Did he owe Saito his life? "I owe Goro-san for Aizu," she stared. "He could have taken off with Hijikata-sama to go to Sendai, but he chose to risk his life for Aizu. He could have died and for the sake of those who did die in the Battle of Aizu to shun him down because of some future difficultly would be shameful. I owe him for all he's done… No one has ever told Goro-san, but…he's a good man, Tokio-san. The best kind of man. I can't turn my back on a good man and not feel regret for the rest of my life…yet…I shouldn't endanger everyone else's lives…"

The look she gave him melted from surprise to tenderness. "Oh, Kurasawa-sama…you do what you must. Goro-san and the others will not hate you no matter you're choice. I'm sure they will understand. Goro-san will if no one else…"

He nodded, she knew he'd made up his mind before talking to her, he'd just needed to tell someone. Even though she was a woman and men shouldn't talk to women about such things he'd done so. She felt honored and respected Kurasawa even more. When she left the room she did a kneeling saikeirei to him. He smiled warmly as she turned to go. Kurasawa was a good man too.


	3. Chapter 3: Tonami, 1871, Part 3

She sat before the hall. Yamakawa Okura…she'd met him again today. They had briefly encountered each other in Aizu. He was still…not handsome, but not homely either. Better looking than Saito and Kurasawa certainly. Ueda was clearly the best looking of the four men. Okura bore himself like a proud man, talked quietly, and was determined to make a name for himself. She liked his personality well, besides he'd helped during the siege of Aizuwakamatsu. He'd come rushing back from Nikkōguchi-Tajima and gotten into the castle by pretending to be a marching band from a nearby village. He was a heroic sort of man.

He'd come to Tonami hardly a few weeks ago. Kurasawa and he had several meetings, but today had been the first time she'd been present. She could still remember Yamakawa's surprise when she'd entered. He'd remembered her…

_"If it isn't Takagi-san," he exclaimed upon seeing her. She had blushed and tying to hide it she'd bowed, setting the tea tray down. Ueda had looked amused, Kurasawa had looked confused, and Saito had looked…well his usual indifference._

_"I remember you from Aizu," he'd continued unperturbed. "You helped Teruhime-sama."_

_"Yes, Okura-sama." She'd seen Ueda raise an eyebrow at her. She rarely used -sama on anyone. Kurasawa, Matsudaira Katamori, and a few others were the only expectations from her usual polite san. The daimyo of Aizu deserved the title of -sama and Kurasawa because he was such a good respectable man. Ueda looked teasingly annoyed because she only used san for him. Saito didn't seem to care that he was merely referred to as san._

_After a short while the conversation had gone back to routine chit-chat. She'd left shortly after and now found herself outside._

She felt the blush rise in her cheeks again, recalling the familiar look Okura had given her. Why did his look make her uncomfortable? She frowned, slipping off her zori scandals. She swung her feet back and forth. She hummed a small tune she'd heard Satsuki singing earlier. She grew so bored sometimes, but the silence and solitude were nice. Being alone was nice, she wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone right now. She was trying to figure out a complex puzzle named Okura Yamakawa.

She turned as the shoji opened, stopping her humming she was expecting one of the women. It wasn't. Saito came out, pulling those nasty cigarettes out. He gave her a remote nod of his head, she bowed briefly. How annoying, she'd preferred it if he went back inside. He sat a short distance away, lighting his cigarette and dropping the match in the same motion.

She turned away from him, staring out at the path that led to the outside doors of the house.

"So you hum, eh?" She started at his voice and looked over at him.

"When I'm in a good mood," she snapped, feeling vexed. "My mood isn't so great right now."

"I wonder why," he drawled, but she knew he knew he was the cause. He took a drag and fiddled with the cigarette in his hand. "What do you think of Yamakawa-san?"

She frowned a second, remembered his fond look, and blushed. She hoped since it was dark that he didn't notice, knowing his wolf like instincts he probably knew she was though. "He's considerate, I suppose. A man one could hold conversations of longer duration than a minute." She didn't need to imply that his conversations were usually one sided, he knew what she meant. No one would have dared call Hajime Saito an idiot.

His brisk reply was immediate, "I believe we've surpassed a minute."

She swung her feet, letting one foot dip lower to skim the grass. She suppressed a giggle as the sensitive part of her foot was tickled; it would not have been an appropriate time to burst out laughing.

"Likely I've surpassed a minute, but you on the other hand don't say more than a six letter sentence."

"I didn't realize your intelligence was so poor. That was eight, woman. Besides poor intellect," he took another drag, "you're memory seems rather poor. I've said much longer sentences."

"Prove it."

He snorted, giving her a half amused, half annoyed look. She couldn't tell if he was enjoying their little banter. For her part she was quite impressed with his quick wit. She'd thought at first that he was a semi-intelligent samurai with half baked notions about justice and 'Aku Soku Zan' being the only phrase he could muster. He'd certainly proved her wrong in these last two months.

"I recall I said '…you can't claim to be so much better than me, you've just killed a man who had no connection to your revenge. You're a hypocrite…I dislike hypocrites."'

He had said that hadn't he? That man…had he and the one he'd slain ever been buried. As if sensing her train of thought he said, "They were buried just outside Gonohe behind some shrubbery. I watched them get buried; I know where it is at. We could go to see their graves another day." She wondered now if his using that quote had been because he wanted to brooch the topic of their burials.

She frowned, he noticed, taking a drag. "What makes you frown?"

"Nothing…"

"I like liars about as much as hypocrites. Usually they are of the same cast. I believe you said once, 'It's alright to cry. Tears are natural when someone dies."'

"I did," why was he mentioning it? Then it hit her, he was calling her a hypocrite and liar. That bastard. That chain-smoking, ugly, emotionless son of a she-wolf bastard! She wanted to hit him, but instead subdued that emotion and smiling said, "Emotions, those feelings which some men say they do not process, are natural feelings which should be expressed at certain points. Those men claiming not to have any are hypocrites because being humans we are unable to not feeling something," strike right to the heart. She had won this little battle of words, she was sure.

He took a long drag, glanced at her with shining gold eyes, stood, and said with a nonchalant air. "Long speech, little meaning and a waste of time. I'm Miburo." He went to the shoji and stepped on his cigarette as he went in. She was speechless, the nerve of that bastard! He wasn't actually a wolf, that didn't count. In her mind she'd won that battle.

* * *

April was her favorite season. There was one simple reason for it. It rained. She loved rain, she adored the way it made everything seem so much more vivid. She loved when the gray clouds blocked the sun, when they began pouring rain out in turrets. As a little girl she had sneaked out of her room and played in the gardens when it rained.

One of her fondest memories had been her father returning from Kyoto in the rain, his haori and kimono all wet as he picked her up and hugged her. She remembered his eyes as she'd looked up into his face, how brilliantly the dark gray clouds illustrated his brown eyes. It was a treasured memory because it was one of few she had of him.

She turned, catching sight of Amane's small frame in the hallway. Where was she heading off to? She should probably get back to arranging the flowers she'd been working on, but she didn't really feel like doing it. Not when outside was so beautiful.

A hand clasped the shoji frame next to her head. She turned to see Okura Yamakawa. He looked her straight in the eye, smiling warmly. She smiled absently, lowering her head she turned back to the water drenched landscape. It wasn't respectful for a woman to hold a man's eye, much less one of higher rank.

The thought struck her that she'd been holding Saito's eyes without any rebuke from him. It surprised her. Not that Kurasawa was quick to reprimand her for such a trivial thing, but Ueda would have. He was stricter to tradition than his softhearted friend. A part of her was curious as to why Saito, so strict with his own affairs and lifestyle, dismissed such customs so readily. She'd have to ask him sometime.

Yamakawa was silent a good long moment, "Tokio-san?"

"Yes?" She kept her head lowered, waiting for him to go on.

"Tokio-san…I…" He hesitated at first, but his voice quickly became stronger with resolution. "I remember Tsuruga Castle well. You were an exclusive creature back then, but you're even harder to find now. I asked a girl, Amane-san I think, where you were. She said probably in the garden. I thought it strange you would be outside in such weather."

She shook her head, "I like the rain, Yamakawa-sama."

He looked put out, "First you address me as Okura-sama and now you switch to my last name. I would prefer Okura-san."

"Okura-sama is more respectful."

"I would prefer more familiarity between us… Okura-sama makes me feel old." He was hardly twenty-four, maybe twenty-five or six.

She hesitated now, thinking. He watched her hawk eyed. "Oku―."

"Tokio-san," Kurasawa interrupted, appearing with Saito. "I've been trying to find you, Okura-san. There's been some trouble in Gonohe." Kurasawa kept talking as the two walked off. Okura was the vice-governor after all, he had to know if something happened.

She didn't look at Saito, remembering her manners. It wasn't good to try her luck with him, she thought. "Won't you go with them?"

"It's not my place. I'm just a peddler or will be when I figure out what I want to peddle. Want to visit some graves," he said it casually, taking out his cigarettes.

"If you don't smoke."

"You'll have to do better than that to get me to stop. Once I gave up sake I needed a replacement." He lit it with a small smile coming onto his lips. "Everyone needs a little something to help them get through the day." His hand reached over and shut the shoji just behind her. The cold wind and rain coming into the house faded. "Mine is cigarettes, Satsuki-san's is her horrible singing, mind you I think I might have to kill her if she doesn't stop it around me, I don't want to go deaf. Your thing just so happens to be the rain, though I can't see the attraction."

She glared, but it was only playfully so, "I can't see your attraction to things that might kill you someday."

"Excitement," talking about his cigarettes or his killing people she could not tell. She had to keep reminding herself that he killed people remorselessly. She had to drill that thought in, otherwise…she was starting to really fear this Miburo.

The grave markers were nothing more than some rocks placed around sticks to keep them in place. The ones who'd buried the bodies, likely Gonohe villagers, had buried them away from the road, behind some dense shrubbery. None of the villagers wanted to remember the shrine incident, she clutched her fist frowning, but the people who'd loved both these men would.

Saito was frowning also, but for entirely different reasons. "I can't understand something about this." She turned to look at him. He wasn't smoking right now which was surprising, but not unpleasant. "The man from Gonohe should have been buried in a plot with his family, right? So I'm curious on why they buried him here with his murderer. Unless he had no relatives in the area or all relations were dead it doesn't add up." He tapped a hand against his jaw, his eyes narrowing as something registered. "I'm beginning to think the one who tried to kill me was partnered with the man he'd slain. It would make all the puzzle pieces that don't quite fit come together. First off the man wavered far too easily at your words, Tokio-san. A man out for revenge shouldn't have been so…easily shaken off. Add that to the fact that this other man wasn't buried properly by his relations makes me suspicious. Your thoughts on it?"

She was quite startled that he'd ask for her opinion. She clutched at the sleeve of her kimono, not saying anything. His piercing gaze was digging a hole through her back. "Not a word? Strange behavior today. Nevertheless," he pulled out his katana suddenly, "I don't understand why he'd murder his comrade. Turn around." She turned her back on the graves at his insistence; the katana in his hand didn't scare her as much as she thought it should have. Perhaps because she knew he only killed evil.

A man appeared, standing in the middle of the street. He had on a gray haori, gray hakama, and green kimono. He tipped his sugegasa at them, waving. Was he a villager? Saito didn't sheath his sword though, in fact his stance was even more aggressive if nothing else.

"Maybe he's just―."

"He's wearing daisho."

She couldn't make it out in the rain, but it did look like his hand was resting on his left side. Saito glanced at her, "You should run if this moron attacks. Likely I'm the target, but one never knows with conniving enemies."

"You said enemies?"

"There are four of them. The one we see, a bowmen just behind him and two more swordsmen with their weapons drawn. You run back to Gonohe as fast as you can when I engage them. Got that? I don't need to have to worry about a woman getting in the way."

He'd worry…probably only because he'd thought Kurasawa would kick him out if she got killed. She squared her shoulders back and nodded her head. She tried to keep her body from tensing, but it seemed impossible.

"Prepare," he yelling, lunging at his opponent. At his yell she took off. She was going at a fast walk, running in a kimono was impossible. She cursed as she fell face forward. She landed on her palms and sat up. She slipped her zori off and with shaking hands ripped her kimono so she could run better. Standing she left her zori there, forgetting about them.

She heard the screams of dying men, heard the clash of steel, the war cries. She tried not to remember. The tree leaves reminded her of Teru's green eyes as they stopped before the burning building. Teru immediately took command and started to dole out orders. Some people left. She went to an injured man, he'd been burned all over his face, his eyes filled with such agony. Her hands had trembled as she held him and tears had clouded her vision. Teru had come over with Suzuki Shingo, her personal guard. She said something, she didn't see Suzuki draw his sword. Some one yanked her off of the man seconds before Suzuki's sword ended his suffering. It was not the first man she'd seen killed nor the last, but he'd been the first one whose life she'd watch slip away through his eyes.

She'd fallen again. She picked herself up and ran. Gonohe came into view soon enough and than Kurasawa's place. She entered though the gate and rushed inside. She found her room with little difficulty, no servant stopped her and she was fortunate enough not to have run into Kurasawa or the others. She sat down seiza style on the zabuton, her hands in front of her. She bowed low, her forehead touching the mat, trying with every muscle in her body to control herself. She wished right then that she had Saito's disciplined mastery over her emotions. She wanted her heartbeat to stop.

She awake with a start. Someone's foot was poking her side. What was that smell? It smelled like smoke…not fire though. She was safe from that. Cigarette smoke. She opened her eyes. The foot nudged her again. "Enough, Goro-san."

"Just making sure," he gave one final merciless jab and sat down on the zabuton facing hers. "I brought your zori." He handed the dirtied zori scandals. She frowned as she took them, setting them in her lap. Her ripped kimono was covered in dirt and this was one of her favorites. He watched her without blinking. "I killed those men easily enough. I suppose you didn't really have to run."

She didn't say anything and he lapsed into silence. He stood to go, "Goro-san, thank you," she bowed low, remembering her manners at the last minute. He was silent as she continued, "I owe you greatly, but there is this nagging question which will not leave me be."

"What?"

"I was wondering why you're so strict on yourself, but not on others. You throw away etiquette easily enough when we talk, expect for your use of san. I was merely curious."

"Do you find me a contradiction?" He looked thoughtful as he met her eyes, "I'm strict morally speaking on everyone, but I find etiquette in general restricting and a hindrance. Women shouldn't have to act so subservient and stupid. Women, despite their inferiority to men, should not be treated like pigs, fattened with child and disregarded after the firstborn son."

Her lip twitched, "So you consider women to be inferior?"

"Of course, but not because I'm ignorant or arrogant. Women are generally not disposed to be warriors; their softer gentler bodies restrict such activities. Though I've heard of women who've fought as bravely as men, I've not yet met a woman who could best me. Therefore women are the physically weaker sex." He'd taken out a cigarette and lit it while he'd spoken.

"But you―."

"I wasn't done speaking," he said as he blew out smoke. She fell silent. "In my mind men, with their insatiable temptations and fickle nature, will always be the mentally weaker sex. Women can be just as dense as men and usually more vane." He yawned, his gaze thoughtful. "Nevertheless my opinion at this residence has been mostly good. Kurasawa-san and Ueda-san have proved to have iron wills of inner strength, conviction, and are virtuous individuals. The women here," he flicked the ash onto his leg, frowning, "have surprised me even more with their virtue and strength."

She wasn't sure if he was talking about all the women here. He noticed her downcast look and scoffed with annoyance. "You belittle them with your doubt. Even the fainthearted Haruna-san has shown to me her resilience. Yaso-san has proven that a beautiful woman does not always have to be vane too. Satsuki-san and Amane-san have both proven their loyalty to their female companions by helping them in a crisis."

He hadn't mentioned her. She didn't reply. She'd deserved those words for doubting the other's abilities. All of them were superior individuals. "You confused me at first," she glanced upward to meet his eyes. He flicked ash onto his pant leg again and with one hand rubbed it into his kimono. She watched stunned as he continued, "I thought you were a quiet woman because you had nothing to say, not because you were predisposed to silence. But I find you are not always silent because you enjoy it, rather you are considerate of those around you almost to a fault. You think out you're words in advance, where most just blurt them out, and always try to make sure they are not misinterpreted and hurt someone. You're a very caring sort, Tokio-san."

She realized she was blushing. Who could have guessed a merciless killer, a former Miburo, could or would have said such kind words. "Thank you, Saito-sama," she bowed. She had always referred to him as Goro-san because he'd wanted to be called Goro Fujita over his other names and san because it was respectful. Adding the '-sama' was her way of showing her gratitude and new found respect. She suddenly wondered if calling him by his former last name upset him.

His laughter startled her, "Saito-sama? Funny, don't call me that again. I prefer Goro Fujita and '-sama' just sounds ridiculously pretentious."

He went to the shoji that overlooked the garden and flung his cigarette outside. She stared in surprise at his figure as he turned around. The rain had not stopped, pouring heavier if nothing else. Framed against the gray, stormy rain drenched background he should have looked menacing. In fact she was sure to anyone else he would have been. To her it would be another good memory to covet about the rain. She remembered as he shut the shoji and went to the one leading inside how golden brown his eyes had looked.

She closed her eyes and when she was sure he was long gone she lay down on the hard floor. She let her hand rest before her face, staring at it with shinning eyes. How wonderful, she mused, this strange feeling in her chest and how strange that it had started out like a bud and bloomed so quickly. Would it fall to the ground like a cherry blossom? Or would it stay forever more to bother her?

She didn't realize until later as she laid in her futon the name for her feeling. Love was such a tricky blinding thing.


	4. Chapter 4: Tonami, 1871, Part 4

She was watching trees blow in the wind in late June. The rainy season was her favorite, she smiled, it might rain tonight by the looks of the clouds. Haruna came up behind her from inside. The woman put her hands over her eyes. She laughed, "Har-san, stop that."

Haruna chuckled, "No, its fun."

"Haruna-san did you find Tokio-san," asked Satsuki, standing in front of the shoji Haruna had left open.

"Yes, Sat-san!"

Satsuki looked annoyed at Haruna's pet name for her, but didn't rebuke her. "Kurasawa-san wants everyone to meet in the sitting room."

When the three arrived in the living room they found Amane, Yaso, Yamakawa, Kurasawa, Ueda, and Saito all waiting. She frowned, something had been brewing between Kurasawa and Ueda lately. Why was Yamakawa here? Something important it seemed.

She was a little nervous as she bowed to each person present. She sat on one of the empty zabuton and waited, eyes downcast. Satsuki and Haruna sat also. Heavy tension was apparent in the silence. Kurasawa cleared his throat and began speaking. "We must prepare," he said, he had a serious look on his face, but she could see the hint of a smile wanting to break out. She felt less stressed at that reassuring sign. She glanced over at Saito, he was silent, sitting perfectly still in seiza. Saito…her feelings hadn't changed. It wasn't like the cherry blossoms that bloomed and fell so quickly, her feelings had remained constant.

"We must prepare for a joyous event," Kurasawa was saying. "One of my honored guests has decided in favor of matrimony."

She was quite startled by this. Surely not Haruna or Satsuki? They would have let the information slip weeks earlier if that was true. Amane or Yaso then must have been the choice. She glanced at Amane, twenty-three well-educated and not so hard on the eyes. Yaso cut a more pleasing feature and had a more reserved look, but she was older. Already thirty wasn't she? Yamakawa or Ueda, either would make good husbands. She glanced at Saito, surely not him…he wasn't the type to marry.

"Yaso Shinoda-san," Kurasawa smiled, she kept her eyes on her mat. Her legs would start to lose feeling in them if Kurasawa didn't make this quick. She'd never been able to hold seiza position for long which she'd always thought was dishonorable for an Aizu retainer's daughter. "And Goro Fujita-san will marry on August twenty-fifth."

Her eyes widened and her hands clenched into fists. No one would notice her hands, preoccupied by looking at Yaso and Saito. What? How? Why? Why would Saito and Yaso want to marry? It made no sense. Why? Perhaps he'd never returned her silly female feelings. Perhaps all those secretive small smiles had been nothing to him but smiles. They hinted at nothing more than his amusement. She'd formed her own opinions about him without realizing that he'd not even noticed her. Their little banter, their walks, their shared feelings had been nothing so significant to him. She wanted to cry, to weep deeply at the thought that she'd been so misguided. She couldn't. How stupid of her… She had to be happy. She had to pretend that this wasn't the worse moment of her young life.

After this announcement, Kurasawa started to chat happily about it. He mentioned Yaso didn't have a shiromuku from her family as it had been lost in the move to Tonami. She listened, distracted, only two thought rattling in her brain. Amane mentioned she'd be happy to let Yaso use hers. She was bleeding, did no one see the blood pouring from her heart?

* * *

Over the next few months leading up to the wedding day the same two thoughts would not stop pestering her. She'd resolved to kill them, to make sure he never knew about them. She'd cried herself to sleep enough nights, felt the heartache tear at her breast. She'd done her utmost to avoid him during the following months. He didn't seem to care. It hurt so much to think he didn't care. She'd seen little of Yaso lately and had heard the woman was at the shrine more often than not. Was she worried about her future with him? Saito would never hurt an innocent woman, much less one that was going to be his wife. Did Yaso really not understand that yet? She wanted to cry, she understood him…much better than she wanted to.

* * *

Who would have guessed just months earlier that August twenty-fifth would be the day Hajime Saito captain of the third squad of the Shinsengumi would marry? The very Hajime Saito who'd killed Ishin Shishi all over Kyoto? He was not a man she had expected would marry. Yet here he was wearing his formal black montsuki, haori, and hakama and receiving the small cluster of guests who'd come. Yaso looked lovely in her pure white shiromuku. How had Kurasawa managed it? She wondered as she waited to be greeted. To think that he'd gotten those two to actually agree to marry seemed such an impossible thought. It seemed beyond her reasoning that either would have been looking forward to this day.

Yaso was smiling pleasantly though, her face the picture of a perfectly content wife. Saito for his part was smiling. His eyes narrower than usual and he greeted guests in a softer tone than usual too.

She wondered if he was really happy marrying Yaso. She could tell that Yaso wasn't straining her smiles, but she wasn't sure about Saito. How could Yaso want to marry Saito when her impression of him was so poor? She was greeted and pushed aside quickly in the press of guests. She went over and took a seat on the tatami mats. Kurasawa and Ueda where talking with other guests.

"Morinosuke-chan," she smiled warmly. Her younger brother sat down beside her. He'd arrived in Tonami hardly weeks earlier. She knew his reason for coming was not merely Saito and Yaso's marriage.

The night was perfect. Guests ate and drank to their heart's content. Midway through the evening Saito and Yaso were praised by Kurasawa and Ueda. She ate little and drank less, her heart far from content. She went outside shortly after Ueda's speech of good will and hope for many little ones. She sat down, everything seemed still, even the wind seemed to be holding it's breath. Her geta were hurting her feet, but she didn't feel like moving to take them of. Besides if another guest caught her without scandals on she was sure it would have resulted in shame on her part. He'd dismissed that many times when they'd spoken…better to forget. Don't remember it, she forcefully told herself.

She stared up at the moon, her body felt heavy. She heard the shoji open and close. Someone sat down next to her. She glanced over to see Okura. She smiled stiffly, even her shoulder's felt tense. He smiled back, "I want to ask you something, Tokio-san."

"It is better, Okura-sama, that you do not ask. Much better that you forget," she wasn't sure if she was talking to him or about her own inner turmoil.

He would not be turned away, "I've talked to Kurasawa-san and he'd be very pleased, as would I, if you accepted to be my wife. I'm not a man of many words and am not one who easily woos women. I…have little tact with you creatures," he laughed nervously, "I want a wife, Tokio-san. You're the perfect match for me, gentle, pretty, and above all dutiful. I need someone to come home to on those nights when the battles are too gruesome. You understand what I'm talking about…you were in Tsuruga Castle."

She was silent, even before Saito she would have told Yamakawa no because she felt no love for him. She felt doubly bond now. She bowed low, he took this as her saying yes, but she spoke before he could. "I must decline, Okura-sama. I can not marry you. My feelings will not allow me to serve you as dutifully as you require."

"I don't understand."

"You do not understand because you do not understand me, Okura-sama."

"Understand you? I understand enough. We are all duty bond, Tokio-san. Your father would have given his blessing if he were here. Morinosuke-san already gave his."

"How can you talk to me of marriage in the name of duty? That is the last reason I should ever marry for. My father would have understood. I will only marry for love, Okura-sama."

"Surely enough love will follow after our marriage."

She shook her head, rising from her spot. She saw those golden brown eyes, that dark hair tied back with bangs falling into his angular face. His little smiles. "There's a love that can not be explained. A flame so bright it can not be contained. You and I will never share such passion together. Do not ask me how I know…"

"Love is not the painting, it's the frame. Love is not the truth, it's just a claim. What we should aspire to is far beyond mere passion, Tokio-san. Let us dutifully kneel to Aizu and the Emperor or else shame the clan."

"Aizu is no longer. You can not bait me with that." She stared at the sitting man, he looked dumbfounded by her refusal. How could she explain love to a man who'd never felt its touch upon his heart? How could he possibly say duty was more important than love? Only someone who had never experienced the greatest of love could possibly conceive of marriage or happiness without it. She would be doomed to sorrow for the rest of her life because her love had forsaken her. And yet she felt no regret about having loved Saito. None whatsoever, only a dull ache in her heart and the want of more time with him.

"But what of Kurasawa-san? Must he always be burdened with your weight? You inflict unnecessary hardship upon him."

"I would only hurt both of us more if I say yes. You do not understand right now, Okura-sama, but when you meet the one person who inspires you to be better and who you love more than anything in the world you will understand why I said no."

He clutched at his hakama, struggling with his self-control. He stood abruptly, bowed slightly to her, and left. She knew his pride had been deeply wounded, but it was for the best. He would understand someday. She sat in the middle of the garden, letting her fingertips graze the top of the blades of grass. How cool it was tonight. She shivered. She didn't want to go inside and face the bright, happy wedding guests and couple. She sighed, glancing at the moon. Did it like being aloof and different from the stars?

The wedding party was over. Morinosuke was walking her back to her apartments. She had seen him talking to Okura earlier in the evening so his silence was natural. Was his pride hurt? Did he fear she'd never be happy? Did he even care if she was happy so long as she married?

He came with her into her room. She was about to speak when he spoke first. "I'm very disappointed, Tokio-chan." Neither of them said anything for a time. Morinosuke sighed, looking annoyed. "Why did you refuse such a good offer? He'd give you a life back in Tokyo, a much better life than you have here in Tonami."

She bowed her head. "Tokio-chan, don't bow to me!" He sounded angry, she lifted her head, but her eyes remained downcast. "I just want your happiness. Okura-san could have given you so much happiness; Tonami will…you could die here, sister." He knelt beside her, watching her face. She felt numb. He put a hand on her cheek. She started at his touch, looking up into his dark brown eyes. They were her father's eyes in the rain that night, but it was the ghost of tears, not rain, that made Morinosuke's eyes shine. "I want you to be happy and safe. You won't have either here."

"I'm happy, brother. I'm so happy."

"Don't lie to me. You are not."

She tried to turn away, but his hand tightened on her chin. He made her hold his gaze. His eyes demanded the truth, but how could she tell him the truth when it was tearing her apart. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, and closed it again. He made a face at her fickleness. She remembered her conversation with Saito about fickleness in men and woman. He disliked fickle people. She just didn't know what to do. There was no way any change would come about if she told Morinosuke her feelings, it would only weight on his heart as well as hers.

"I'm happy because I've loved." Morinosuke didn't seem to know what to do, his eyes widened and than softened to tenderness. He hugged her and she leaned against him, sobbing. This heartache had to be fickle, it just had to be or else it would suffocate her. She didn't even care if her fickleness upset Saito so long as this dying feeling left.


	5. Chapter 5: Tonami, 1871, Part 5

Thank you t42n24t2 and reader for reviewing, it is appreciated. I hate people who never update, I'd a good portion of the story written out in advance before I uploaded the story so updates should be quick. Yay! I'm glad you enjoyed the historical setting and about Saito's views on men and women. I just hope I can keep Saito in character, I don't want him to appear as too soft or anything. My personal take on Saito has always been that he's sarcastic and somewhat arrogant acting on the outside, but he's really a nice guy if you read between the lines. I think his trying to prevent Sanosuke from going to Kyoto wasn't completely just because he didn't want him to get in the way, you know what I mean? Plus he did take in Eiji and prevented him from killing Senkaku. So he's not a complete asshole, lol. Then again he was amused when he thought about Senkaku getting tortured...

* * *

She watched the carriage travel down the path two weeks later. Kurasawa, Morinosuke, and the rest of the household watched Okura Yamakawa's departure from Tonami. Kurasawa was waving happily to the retreating carriage, despite the fact that Okura couldn't see him. Ueda has his arms crossed and his eyes stared thoughtfully. She had a feeling she knew where his thoughts dwelled.

She had heard Kurasawa, Ueda, and Morinosuke fighting the other night. She'd brought some tea for the men because she'd heard they'd planned on staying up late, but when she'd heard the topic of the quarrel she'd froze. They'd been furiously talking about her and Okura. She stayed only long enough to hear Ueda complain about her willful spirit and Kurasawa saying something along the lines of she was young yet and marriage could still happen. She'd had one of the servants bring the tea and had retired to her room.

Thinking about that conversation made her feel terrible about how her actions affected Kurasawa and Ueda. But she wouldn't budge on this matter. She was never going to marry. Not when he wasn't available.

She glanced at Yaso. She looked the picture of a happily married housewife. Her hair was styled in the latest fashion, her kimono was just the right shade to match her lips, and her brown eyes portrayed just the right among of obedience and docile nature men liked. She could have been a geisha in Tokyo if she'd not ended up here.

She had never taken much stock in beauty before, she was rather homely and knew it. Teruhime had been the beautiful princess everyone paid attention too before 1868, she'd just been the semi-pretty lady-in-waiting. Now she was the semi-pretty homeless woman mooching off Kurasawa because she'd refused her only suitor. And Yaso was the pretty happy wife everyone noticed. It had never bothered her before 1871, she'd never wanted all the attention, especially not of some of the ill behaved suitors Teru had gotten at times. Now she wished she'd been beautiful so that the one man she really wanted to care might have picked over Yaso.

Kurasawa turned to go, calling over his shoulder, "I want to talk to you, Tokio-san."

She followed him inside, noting the hard look Ueda gave her as she shut the shoji behind her. She had tried her hardest not to glance at Saito and she had actually been successful. Another second outside with him and she might not have been so fortunate.

She walked behind Kurasawa, passing a servant or two on the way. She asked if he wanted tea, but received a simple no. Kurasawa was acting uncharacteristically severe, was he really that upset about Okura? Of course he was. He'd adopted her into his household just before arriving in Tonami, but that didn't mean he wanted her to live with him forever. A marriage would have secured the Hieimon family name's survival through her adoption.

Kurasawa opened the shoji and she followed after him, closing it carefully. He sat and she sat beside him. He said nothing for a long moment, but she felt his eyes on her. "Why did you refuse Okura-san?"

Her hands clutched together in her lap, "I can not marry such a man."

"Why not? He's a good man." A good man…just like Kurasawa, just like Saito…

"I know what sort of man he is, Kurasawa-sama, and his type of man can never…" She wasn't sure how to continue, would he even care that she'd refused because of love? "Okura-sama would not have…could not…have made me happy. I would only be miserable in Tokyo, away from all I love and care for in Tonami." Away from him…from Amane, Satsuki, Haruna, Ueda…Yaso…Saito…Saito…

He closed his eyes, frowning, "You could meet new people and come to love those people as much as you loved everyone in Tonami. You could come to love Okura-sama easily for all his good qualities. He's an honorable..." She bowed and he fell silent. "Why are you being difficult? Any of the other girls would gladly take your place, Tokio-san!"

"Let them have Okura-sama then."

He glared at her hunched figure, "I can't understand you. Why would you―."

"Perhaps I can explain her actions," Saito interjected, closing the shoji behind him. Her hands, which she'd managed by sheer will to unclench and lay folded in her lap, were now gripping her thighs. He sat, pulling out a cigarette, did he ever not smoke? "Her actions are indeed bizarre to anyone who does not understand her mindset."

"Her mindset," Kurasawa was looking at her with confusion.

"Let us look at this objectively, Kurasawa-san. Marriage to Okura-san means several things. First off moving to Tokyo. That can be looked at as either a good or bad thing. She'd leave behind everyone she loves to go, but she'd be away from the sickness that grips Tonami." The morality rate in Tonami was high because of the poor quality of living and the meager diet because of the terrain. "Next we must take into consideration Okura-sama. This certainly tips the balance of the scales in either direction depending on how one looks at it. To you and Ueda-san marriage is an agreeable thing. To Tokio-san she will be more a slave, expected to bear many children, and will be restricted as to what she can or can't do. Then there is honor. To take that into account must mean to Tokio-san that she must refuse him. Her dignity would rather she die in Tonami from disease than live a long comfortable life in Tokyo. She'd be miserable there, but happy here."

"But her duty―."

"I did not take that into much account because Tokio-san does not."

"Stop interrupting me, Goro-san!"

"I would if you'd stop with the stupid sentences," Saito smoked calmly from his cigarette. He still acted the same unwavering, emotionless bastard on the outside, but she loved him even more than ever. Though she knew he'd never admit it to anyone he'd been persuading her case to Kurasawa and trying to lessen the man's anger which he knew made her upset over her decision.

"Goro-san," she bowed deeply, trying to calm down her heart. It wasn't right to love him, he was married. Her two questions rattled in her brain and she wondered again about the second one as she watched him smoke. He flicked his cigarette ash into the ash tray Kurasawa kept in his room for him. One amber orb watched her out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitched slightly, almost as if he wanted to smile but didn't want to upset Kurasawa. Kurasawa would have been deeply annoyed if he had.

Kurasawa was talking, ranting about honor and dignity, duty to one's clan or death. But the clans were little more than name now. Not since 1868. Back than if she'd refused she would have been forced to commit jigai by Aizu, but the clan wasn't really a clan anymore. Their daimyo Matsudaira Katamori was still under house arrest and they were more survivors of war banding together than a clan of samurai.

Kurasawa finally gave in after he realized there was no getting through to her. After a time he sighed, dismissing her and Saito from his quarters. She stood outside Kurasawa's room with Saito. He looked back at her. Finally he turned to go, but not in the direction to his rooms. "Come," was all he said.

She followed him. The garden was his destination. She was a little surprised, but not in a bad way. There was little wind and the humidity was mild. She sat on the porch as he strolled over to the fish pond. She watched his back, leaning his head over a little as he looked down at the dark water. He picked up a rock at his feet and dropped it into the pond. Why bother the fish? What a contumelious bastard.

He turned his head, almost as if he was reading her inner thoughts. He placed one arm on his waist, staring at her across the garden. "Are you afraid to come further out? Afraid I'll throw a rock?"

His words laced with amusement only annoyed her. She ventured a few steps out, but didn't approach the pond. "I believe your anger is valid," he acceded, "but what is making you so discomposed as of late?"

"I am angry at you," her voice came out stronger and louder than she'd intended. She didn't want to take them back though; she was angry, so angry. It was the anger of betrayal. Why was she angry? It was a stupid question for Saito to ask. Didn't he know she was angry because he'd chosen beautiful Yaso over her? She saw his eyes narrow at her and she realized why a second later. Her eyes were glimmering with tears.

"Is that a tear in your eye?"

"Yes it is." It was uselessly denying what was obvious.

"Why?" How could she explain that to him? How was it he didn't understand? He had understood everything else about her so well, how come this confused him? "Do you cry because you wished you'd said yes to Okura-san or is it because of the discomfort you've caused Kurasawa-san and others because of your refusal?"

She stared, "Idiot." She turned away, her voice had choked on that one word. She pressed her kimono to her face, willing the tears not to fall. Crying in front of him was so…pathetic. He probably thought so at the least. What kind of honorable, dignified woman cried in front of a man who was not even related to her? And called him an idiot in the process? "I'm sorry, Goro-san," she muttered, bowing to him.

She was about to turn away, "Tokio-san. You never answered me. Don't walk away. Are you afraid to say why?"

Her heart stopped for a second, "No. I just don't think…it matters." It didn't matter. He didn't care. He really was an indifferent bastard. Perhaps not indifferent, but still a bastard.

He'd done so many things, little things like a passing phase on most days or something, causally said but with all the weight of many. He'd said things which would have been taken as insolent by others, but to her had meant he cared. The time he'd called her doubt in her friends belittling, the witty repertoire between them, the smiles she coaxed out at great effort. She loved him and yet…yet he hadn't thought the same through everything. How had that been? How had she misread it all? How had she not seen his regard to Yaso? Love had blinded her. She felt like a fool, even more so when she realized he hadn't intentionally wooed her.

She turned away from him, her shoulders were shaking. She walked the short distance to the house and stepped inside. A hand touched her sleeve softly and she glanced at her younger brother with surprise. He closed the shoji after her, took her hand, and started off to her apartments.

"I understand now, Tokio-chan," he said when they stopped in front of her room. "I do, koishii, forgive me for not having seen it. You hide your true feelings so well. I'll be leaving any day now, I hope you'll see me off. Koi shiteru, Tokio-chan," he touched her cheek softly and turned down the hall. She watched him go, her face flushed. Her dear brother…she loved him too.


	6. Chapter 6: Tonami, 1871, Part 6

Shimabara was a courtesan district in Kyoto. Just a note, Geisha are not prostitutes, they're more like entertainers than anything. Gion was a geisha district, Shimabara was the prostitutes district. Just so everyone knows. R&R. Thank you

* * *

It was late November. The sky was bright and clear today. It was cold out, so she'd decided on her dark red flannel kimono. It had a pattern of cherry blossoms on it, completely out of season, but that was the reason she'd picked the fabric for it. It made her think of warmer weather. She turned from the shoji. She found Satsuki and Haruna playing chess. Amane was sitting quietly reading.

She pulled the letter from Morinosuke out from her sleeve and sat a short distance from Amane. She smiled as she reread it. He'd had a safe travel, he wrote, and had settled easily back into life in Kobe. He'd moved there a few months before coming to see her from Tokyo. He mentioned a restaurant he liked that he'd hoped he could take her to sometime. She smiled, refolding the letter and tucking it away. It was a small solace in these beak days to know Morinosuke was well. Almost a whole year had passed, she mused, so little seemed changed. She glanced at the ladies, and yet she'd met him in that little bit of time and he had flipped her world upside down.

She sat for a while, thinking it was better that she'd met him. She felt more content, less restless, and more liberated somehow since she'd met him, despite the fact that he wasn't hers. She had reconciled herself to the fact that he was married to Yaso and not her, yet just knowing he was in this world was a comfort she needed to get through the day. If he died…if he wasn't there…she was certain her little spark of happiness left would diminish with him. Just seeing his face every couple days was enough to keep her going. He didn't even have to address her or look at her, though she preferred it, it was enough. She was content by just being near him.

Saito came into the room. He had spent his whole day with Kurasawa. "Kurasawa-san wants everyone to help with the preparation for the Year End Fair."

"Of course, Goro-san," Amane replied, smiling. She went over to him and starting talking about the Year End Fair. She watched him from her current position, liking how the green kimono looked on him. His amber eyes looked particularly vivid today, his lips moving quickly as he said something to Amane, his full attention on her.

She'd felt a little sad earlier, but all that dissolved as she watched him. How strong his face, how independent and proud his stance (with good reason as a former Shinsengumi captain), how lovely a sight this man was to her. She smiled, glancing at the tatami mat. She heard his footsteps withdrawing from the room and caught one last fleeing glance of gold eyes.

* * *

December came and the weather was hideously cold. She'd taken to wearing more than one layer of kimono when it snowed. It was the thirteen of December. Amane and Haruna were taking care of the shimenawa and shide. Kurasawa had given Satsuki the job of collecting the kadomatsu and arranging them before the entrance way. Her job had been to prepare the toshidana with the kagamimochi, sake, persimmons, and other such food for the toshigami. So she had the hardest job. She'd go into Gonohe and buy most of the things with the money Kurasawa had given her. She needed rice, sake, and to buy some persimmons.

She left early, deciding to walk. The wind was whipping her hair and her kimono sleeves as she trudged along. She walked with resolution, determined not to turn back because of the severity of the gusts blown at her. She had survived worse than a little bad weather.

She arrived in Gonohe at the beginning of the snow fall. She cursed her bad luck and found some vendors. There weren't many of them for two reasons. Most of the Aizu were samurai who refused to farm because of their pride and the rest who'd resorted to farming found it hard work. The summers in Gonohe were known to be terrible for harvests. She stopped at the nearest vendor's tent, ducking underneath the fabric to get away from the rain. She smiled at the tired looking middle-aged man tending the produce. He eyed her wearily, probably wondering if she was going to try and steal anything.

She checked to see how much money Kurasawa had given her. Barely enough to fill the toshidana if she wasn't economical, but she could understand Kurasawa's stringency with his money. Life in Tonami was of two varieties: poor and poorer. Kurasawa had been lucky at being made the advisor and councilor by the new government. He even directed the immigration of the prisoners of war. That was why he knew Saito. Saito…warm amber eyes…she shook herself, better not think about him right now.

She looked over several different persimmons, frowning. The Hyakume were cheaper, but she liked the spicy taste of the Maru. Tsurunoko would be good too. She decided on one of each and paid the man. She left that tent and went in search of someone selling rice. It wasn't hard to track someone down selling it; it was the main staple after all. The prices were all about the same, but she brought it from the man who looked like he had the best rice. She checked her funds, not enough for any good sake. She frowned at that, Kurasawa would understand.

She stopped as she was walking pass a vendor, staring at the back of a man she'd recognize anywhere. She started laughing loudly, causing him to turn around and glare at her. He looked truly evil when he glared, his look made several women and men behind her walk faster.

"Don't you look dashing, Goro-san," she drawled, seeing his merchant getup. He wore a long sleeved black happi with a small star crest on the back, lighter blue hakama, and a gray kimono beneath. He really looked silly which was probably because she was use to him wearing just a kimono and sometimes a haori.

"Don't you ever mention this to anyone," he hissed. "Move on if you aren't going to buy anything."

He glared harder when she made no movement to go. "I think your scaring off all your potential customers by looking so evil." He smiled which only made him look more villain-like. "I'm sorry for laughing, Goro-san," she bowed politely. "Can I see what you're selling?"

He gave his characteristic humph, but showed her he was selling sake. She smiled, "Just want I need. How much?"

He looked annoyed at her, but told her. She winced at the price, crap. Stupid expensive sake. She didn't have nearly enough. She pulled out her funds and frowned, "Do you know any cheaper sake sellers? You're prices are ridiculous."

"I need to make a living somehow," he mumbled, "It's not my fault you're too poor to even afford good sake."

"Goro-san."

"I don't know anybody," he replied. "How much do you have?" She told him and he laughed at her, "You're a cheapskate."

"Kurasawa-san's the cheap one."

"Sure. Here," he pulled out several folded bills of his own money and laid them on the table next to the sake. He handed her a small jar and waved her away, "Shove off now, Tokio-san."

She smiled, "Thank you, Goro-san. It's for the toshigami. You're a good man," she looked up as she said the last few words, watching his expression. His eyes stared somewhere beyond her at the street, looking almost as if he was remembering something. Really bizarre behavior for Saito. Then he was back to normal and glaring at her to get away from his stall. She thanked him a second time and left, humming as she walked away. Her mood for the rest of the month would be firmly happy she was sure.

Yaso was watching Satsuki sweep the entrance way of snow. She noticed how thin and tired Yaso looked. She had noticed over the last couple of months how Yaso eat very little, but she'd never eaten much at mealtime. She pondered this now, feeling slightly uneasy as she bowed to both ladies and they bowed back. She sat down beside Yaso. Yaso gave her a sideways look, "Why are you so happy?"

"Hm," she came out of her thoughts when Yaso spoke. She couldn't tell Yaso it was because of her husband. She blushed, "No reason."

"I bet it has to do with a man," Satsuki said, sweeping away the light layer of snow. "It would explain her refusal to Okura-san."

She blushed deeper at that, Satsuki was too observant. Only she and Morinosuke knew about her feelings for Saito and that was how it would stay. She sat, glancing down at her zori scandals. Yaso poked her playfully in the side resulting in her laughter and pushed her hand away. "Is he handsome," she asked.

She blushed, most women wouldn't think Saito was even remotely good looking much less handsome. She found his sharp features and tall figure attractive though, it gave him a sort of musculature look which she preferred to boyish charm any day. Even though she'd never met Souji Okita, she'd heard enough tales about his cute boyish looks that she really thought he couldn't have been that handsome, not compared to Saito. But most would disagree and have called Saito the ugly one.

He was exciting to look at, she found, the way his face could appear expressionless but his words and eyes portrayed anything but. His hair, which she adored in its long state, was probably silky smooth to the touch. She wondered if Yaso was lucky enough to be able to run her fingers though it. She shuddered with delight and then of course he looked really good in a happi coat. She came back to reality when Yaso waved a hand in front of her face. "You there, Tokio-san?"

"Oh let her space out about her friend," Satsuki stressed the term friend with a wink in her direction. She blushed even more ferocious. "What's in the basket?"

"Things for the toshidana."

"I see."

* * *

Later that night as the girls all sat gathered around in Yaso's room conversation took a turn for the worse. "I can't believe you have to put up with such an intimidating man," Haruna said, glaring at where his folded nemaki lay. Yaso had just laid it out for when Saito returned from Kurasawa's room.

"It's not so bad," Yaso said. "He's very mild towards me and treats me quite civilly."

"I heard he was untidy with women," Haruna added, "or at least that is what he was like during the Shinsengumi days."

"It wouldn't have surprised me if he visited Shimabara," Satsuki added.

"Satsuki-san," Yaso was blushing wildly at the thought. It wouldn't have surprised her much if it was true, men liked their pleasures after all and Saito was still a man. She couldn't begrudge him that even if she'd wanted to, she wasn't his wife.

"Don't be foolish," Amane said, working on stitching up a patch in one of Kurasawa's hakama. "Saito doesn't seem like the sort of man to be fickle with women, but you're also giving Yaso a bad notion of her husband. I'm sure by now she knows him better than us."

"What was his Shinsengumi days like? He never talks about it with us," Haruna asked, looking over eager.

Yaso had turned a little pale, her eyes downcast. Something was wrong. She spoke softly when she did, "He doesn't talk to me about those sorts of things. In fact I've not heard him even once mention anything about the Shinsengumi. I do wonder sometimes why he doesn't even mention it in passing, but I just assume he's still getting over it." Her voice had gotten almost too soft to hear by the end of her little speech. None of them said anything for a moment, feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't really know him any better than any of you do, it feels like we're merely sleeping partners." It was Amane who hugged Yaso as she started crying. "I want to make him happy, but how can I when I don't know how?"

She watched her cry, her throat felt sickeningly tight. Poor Yaso…she didn't deserve to be treated like she didn't matter. She could understand Saito's uncaring attitude to other people, but he shouldn't be like that with his wife. "Are you sure he isn't just hiding behind indifference?" She ventured out, half kneeling on one leg, hoping that perhaps Yaso, like so many, had just not picked up on Saito's nonchalant kindness.

It was than that a soft knock at the frame of the shoji made all the women turn to stare. Saito entered though the shoji and Yaso turned her head away, clumsily wiping at her tears. No one moved besides Yaso. Saito frowned, glancing from one woman to the next. He waved his hand in a motion of dismissal. No one moved immediately, but then all the women flocked out like scared hens at the sight of the Wolf.

"We shouldn't have abandoned Yaso with that demon," Haruna was saying.

"You can always go back," Satsuki said, shaking her head. "That man is frightful with such a look on his face."

No one else commented. They all split off eventually in search of bed. Although her original destination had been her futon she found herself outside her room in the garden. The night was freezing cold and her kimono could not keep back the shivers that rocked her. She sighed, why did Saito have to be so harsh? Yaso hadn't needed harshness; she'd needed gentlest. He should have held her, not glared like that. She sat down, frowning. The grass was covered in a thin layer of snow. She leaned her head against the shoji, staring out at the late night.

She awake with a sharp nudge to her side. She was freezing. Her head was rested against something cold. There was dampness on her kimono and head. She opened her eyes. The foot that had nudged her made a move to do so again. "I'm awake," she sat up and found Saito standing over her. He was smiling. How beautiful his face looked when he smiled like that.

"So you are," he muttered, amusement in his words and amber eyes. "Are you aware that it is very late and you fell asleep outside while it was snowing?"

She felt her kimono and hair, the thin layer of snow had doubled while she'd slept. The sky looked ready to burst into snow again any minute. She shuddered, damn snow, damn winter, damn it for existing at all. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Saito wrapped his brown haori around her shoulders. She stared in surprise. What a kind thing…wait a second. Why was he even out here? Shouldn't he be with Yaso? What was he thinking? She should smack him for his inconsiderate nature.

"Why aren't you with your wife?"

He shrugged, "I find it unnecessary to stay inside when she's sleeping. Tonight has made me restless."

She wondered what he had talked about with Yaso, but knew it didn't concern her. She was suddenly aware that his haori smelled like cigarette smoke, she wanted to bury herself in its warmth, imagining that it was his arms around her. She shook herself, now was not the time to be swooning over him. She glanced over at him and found for once he wasn't smoking. The look in his eyes was softer than usual as he seem to be contemplating something of importance. When he felt her scrutiny, he gave her a bemused look. Her heart fluttered. That insensitive idiot. Did he realize what he did to her?

"I remember a night where it snowed so strangely like tonight. It was in 1865. A few days before Yamanami was to commit seppuku. Souji Okita and I were outside watching the snow. It had snowed just before sunset and was snowing once more. Only a very light layer. Okita and I were talking…"

"_Have you ever seen such weird acting snow, Saito-san?"_

"_No."_

"_Very blunt, Saito-san," Okita had smiled warmly. A long moment of silence._

"_You must not falter." The look Okita had given him was one that said he knew what he was talking about._

_For a second the happy go-lucky façade Okita always wore in front of others melted. His eyes stared at the snow, reflecting acute sorrow and regret. Saito, always so cool and collected, frowned looking almost sad too. "All this shall pass, Okita-san. Sorrow will dissolve in time. Yamanami-san wanted it to be this way. Do not dwell on sorrow."_

"_He's like my older brother," and Okita, happy smiling kind Souji Okita, had cried as the snow fell around him. And Saito, cold merciless wolf that he was, had put a hand on the boy's shoulder in comfort._

She said nothing when he'd done recounting the sad story. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would burst. She wondered how Okita and Saito had felt as she could only vaguely imagine it in her mind. She'd wished she'd met someone like Okita, she was sure she would have liked Saito's friend.

Saito was sitting quietly, his eyes distance. She realized suddenly that she was the first person he'd told about any of his Shinsengumi days. A rush of gratitude and wonderment hit it square in the heart. To think he'd told her before Kurasawa, Ueda, and Yaso…especially Yaso. That had to mean he cared at least a little bit about her. She realized tears were caught in her eyes, but instead of pain ridden tears like last time they were happy ones.

She reached over and involuntarily took his cold hand in hers. She felt him jump and turn his head to look at her. "Thank you for telling me, Goro-san," she said, staring at the snow rather than his face.

He was silent, but she felt his left hand cover hers. She choked back tears, smiling happily. How happy she felt holding his hand. Neither was aware of Kurasawa watching them from the shoji Saito had left slightly ajar.

* * *

She weaved through the fair in late December, watching the other brightly dressed women. Most of the men wore varying shades of brown, green, and blue even despite the festival. She knew it was likely because they had no festive clothing to wear being so poor. She looked at Yaso. She was wearing a lovely light blue flower patterned kimono with yellow obi. Her hair had a bira bira in it that twinkled as she walked. Amane was wearing a light purple kimono with colorful orange obi. Satsuki and Haruna had both oddly decided on green kimonos with Satsuki wearing a darker shade and Haruna wearing a light shade. She had decided to wear yellow with a pink ribbon holding her hair back and pink obi. She wasn't as stunning as Yaso was in her kimono, but she was sure she looked cute.

Kurasawa had decided on a light brown kimono with green obi. Ueda was wearing a blue kimono with a brown obi and haori. Saito had decided to be drab and wear a black kimono with black haori. He looked like a walking skeleton. An utterly ridiculous choice for a festival, everyone would think he'd come from a funeral.

They walked the streets, she'd expected them to be crowded, but it didn't appear that bad. Such festivals were much larger in Tokyo. Most people looked weary and lean faced and some looked half dead where they stood. The thought that so many of these people had been Aizu samurai made her feel upset that this had happened to so great of men and women.

The flannel kimono kept her warm against the chill of the day. She glanced at Saito. He was looking at some vendors trinkets with Yaso. She glanced at her feet, trying not to remember the feel of his hand on hers or his haori around her shoulders. She shouldn't, not on such a day.

Haruna was talking excitedly, "Perhaps we'll run into Ichiro-chan."

"Who?" Amane looked skeptically at Haruna's blushing face.

"You haven't heard of Ichiro-chan? He's the most handsome man in Gonohe."

"He's also yakuza," added Satsuki, looking a little nervous. Yakuza? Why was Haruna even talking about someone related to criminal activities?

"Criminals shouldn't be given any consideration," she said with disdain. "They make their living from dishonorable means. Forget about this Ichiro criminal." She didn't even bother calling him -san, such people were not worth that title.

Haruna and Satsuki started to argue about this man's involvement in illegal pursuits while Amane shook her head. Kurasawa was oblivious to them, talking in a soft tone to Ueda about the fair. Ueda, his arms crossed characteristically, mumbled something about stupid women. Saito agreed, smiling when Yaso gave him an annoyed look and slapped Ueda on the back of the head. How wonderful, being here with these people. She was happy, truly happy and Saito was here too which only made it better. So nice.

She didn't see the man watching her from across the fairgrounds or the way his brow creased with confusion at her as he watched her stroll past. Only Saito saw the man's look, but dismissed it as a man merely gazing at a pretty woman.

"Where the hell are they?"

Kurasawa had dragged the men off somewhere and Yaso had gone with Haruna to get some treats for the ladies. Amane and Satsuki were getting edgy because Yaso and Haruna hadn't returned yet.

"Let's go find them, Amane-san," Satsuki whined, "I'm sure they just got lost."

"Gonohe isn't that big, they probably just stopped to talk with someone. Yaso told us to wait here so we're waiting."

"Please…Amane," she stressed out the e as she wailed, "Amane-san. Tokio-san," Satsuki clung to her kimono, "come with me to find Yaso-san and Har-san?" When she didn't answer Satsuki pouted and went back to the easier to corrupted woman. Satsuki was like a child in that a) she pouted and threw a tantrum to get her way, b) she sulked and plead when that didn't work, and c) she attacked the one more likely to cave in. "Amane-san, please?"

"No," Amane was starting to falter, though whether it was Satsuki's nagging or her hunger Tokio couldn't tell.

"How about I stay here in case they come back and you two go try and find them?"

"Thank you, Tokio-san, come on Amane-san, she said it was fine," she started to drag her away. She watched them walk off in bemusement, they really were like little children sometimes, especially during fairs. She found festivals were a nice break from the stressing life of poverty. Lately Kurasawa was struggling even more to support everyone, despite Saito's added income. She still wondered how Saito made any profit, his sake was too expensive, but she supposed a lot of men wanted drink to wash away their sad lives.

A familiar person sat down beside her. She hadn't had any real conversations with him for a while; they'd always been in social situations with everyone hanging on their every word. "Tokio-san," he supplied, yanking his cigarettes from his kimono sleeve.

"Can't you refrain from smoking for tonight?"

"Hm." She thought for a second he was taking her seriously, but she wasn't looking at his face, unaware of the wolfish smile brewing there. "No," he struck a match and took a puff.

She watched the fair goers, families of shabbily dressed children and weary parents. Elders walked slower, remembering the Year End Fairs of long ago when clan had been more than just a name and swords swung from samurai hips. There were only a few carrying swords, but they were given wide breath when passed compared to the average citizen. Saito had worn his daisho despite the happy event and she wouldn't have been surprised to find he slept when the swords against him rather than Yaso. She snorted at the mental imagine, barely hiding laugher, which received a cautious look from Saito.

"I wanted to talk to you about that night," she knew exactly which night he was referring to. She lowered her gaze, feeling reluctant. She didn't want to talk about that night, too much heartache.

"If we must…"

"We must." He took a drag and blew out gray clouds, rolling the burning cigarette between lean fingers. She wondered how he didn't burn himself, but reminded herself he was skilled in more than just swordsmanship.

"Ask."

"I have a feeling…no… I've observed your actions…and they confuse me." He wasn't looking at her, but at a colorful lantern a little child was swinging around rather recklessly. She watched the pretty red lantern get flung back and forth.

"What confuses you, Goro-san?"

"Not much. I asked you what was bothering you before, remember?" She nodded her head, still watching the lantern. It was safer to observe that than his face. "You said you were angry and than you were on the verge of tears," he inhaled smoke, blowing it out slowly. "You called me an idiot…"

"Sorry, but you deserved it."

"I don't see how I deserved it."

"You know I wouldn't regret saying no to Okura-sama, yet you still thought that was the reason."

"People are fickle and change their feelings from day to day. It was a logical conclusion. I thought you'd refused Okura-san because of your initial dislike of the change it would cause in your life, not out of love. I took love into consideration when I named your friends and Kurasawa-san, but I'd neglected a vital part. I was not aware that there was a lover," she stared in surprise at him, "that kept you chained here. There aren't any excuses for my wrong assumption."

"You assume wrong again," his cigarette bobbed in his hand, the confusion only evident in his eyes.

"There is no lover?"

"No."

"Then…"

"I won't marry Okura-sama because I'd have to leave Tonami and because I know I'll never love him. Not because I have a lover." Saito put the cigarette to his lips, looking as if he was understanding everything now. "Where did you possibly get the idea that I had a lover from?"

"Satsuki-san and my wife." She winced, what had those two been thinking! She wanted to go ring their necks for this, now Saito thought her a loose sort of woman. She blushed, pressing a hand to her face in horror. "My original assumptions I said before Kurasawa was my thoughts on the matter before I'd heard about a lover. They made sense, but I figured a lover would have been the deciding fact to refuse. My apologies, Tokio-san, I did not mean to label you as an unchaste lady."

"I understand. I just can't comprehend on how you think I would…partake in such activities outside marriage."

He shrugged, "Even the most virtuous of people I've met have. It wouldn't have surprised me over much, love and lust have a way of surpassing such social norms."

She glanced over at where the child with the red lantern had been, but he'd long passed by with his parents. A little girl was chasing what appeared to be her younger brother around their parents' feet. Saito snubbed out his cigarette on the ground. She watched him silently, a question nagging at her. She shouldn't ask, it was too personal, too private. He didn't like personal questions usually, it would only annoy him.

She asked anyway, "Are you happy…?" married to Yaso…

He cracked his neck and looked at her, his amber eyes smothering. She turned away, too afraid to meet the look in those eyes. "I was rarely happy during the late Bakumatsu period and only occasionally during my youth and beginning in the Shinsengumi. My youth had been a turbulent time. My father Yusuke Yamaguchi-chan had died when I rather young. My mother was a good woman from what I recall and died when I was nine. I have…I'm not sure if my siblings are still alive, but I had an older brother Hiroaki-chan and older sister Katsu-chan. I killed a Hatamoto when I was nineteen and fled Edo. I joined the Shinsengumi two years later, known then as the Mibu Roshi, in 1863. I wasn't immediately a squadron captain, which happened later. I was relatively happy than I suppose, some days more than others."

"Okita," he chuckled, "always made me laugh a good one." He'd called him just Okita…no -san. He'd never done that to anyone and she remembered he called him just Okita when he'd mentioned Yamanami's death. "They say Okita died alone. I'd wished I'd been there, that fool probably would have liked to know the Shinsengumi didn't stop without him around and that evil was still getting its just deserts."

He was frowning now, "Toba Fushimi, Koshu-Katsunuma, Ueno, Utsunomiya Castle, and the Battle of Aizu. There were raids and skirmishes, but those are the battles engraved most in my memory. The blood on my blade is not innocent blood. I killed for Aku Soku Zan and will until I die. I regret nothing. I'll forget nothing. I'll never falter to kill those who are evil. Aku. Soku. Zan." He said each word like perfectly executed sword chops. "All the members of the Shinsengumi understood that and those who did not either died or were assassinated. My alliance, my loyalty was not to the Shinsengumi, it was to killing evil swiftly. The Shinsengumi was merely the means to an end. Am I happy? Was I happy," he laughed, "I'll always be content by following Aku Soku Zan. The times change, people change, and sides change, but that is forever."

"Even though those people you kill are evil does it really make you any better than them when you take their lives?"

Saito stood, shaking out his hakama and straightening his kimono. "What else should be done with criminals? There is nothing more fitting for villains than to get that which they inflict."

"It still tarnishes the soul to kill. Even yours," did she dare to venture? "Hajime-san." The taste of his name, the name that had never changed, falling off her tongue was like the best fruit she'd ever tasted.

He said nothing, his body turned to her. The village was dark, only the dim candle light from houses or the occasional lantern someone held cast much light. The sun was setting, heralding the arrival of the moon. Pinks, oranges and a faint blue up high in the heavens gave a background to Saito's straight tall figure. He turned and his amber eyes were slightly wider than usual, but they narrowed the next instance. Before she fully comprehended what was going on he was bowing to her. He bowed deeply and of a duration longer than three seconds. She just stared, too speechless to bow back as she should have.

"Sada-san," she'd mentioned her real name to him in one of their conversations. She'd taken up the name Tokio because Teru had dubbed her such back during the Shogunate. She had liked it better than her name and had merely let everyone call her Tokio. "So many times you said, '"Thank you, Goro-san."' I've not once said it back. You've done much I should have thanked you for and unintentionally you've done more than you will ever fully understand. Thank you for everything, especially for being you. Ai shiteru, Sada-san…Tokio-san." He said it with his characteristic indifference on his face, but his voice and the look in his amber eyes said he meant it.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide, and her lips slightly parted. She just gaped at him as he straightened. She couldn't bring any words out, he turned and walked into the small crowd, but she saw where he was amongst them because of his height.

She just sat in the darkness, smiling to herself as the sun set. Hajime… Saito…Goro…All his names didn't matter because he was hers no matter which name he took and he'd proven that tonight. He loved her and she loved him. That was all that mattered.


	7. Chapter 7: Tonami, 1872, Part 1

**Tonami, Japan, 1872**

Almost two years if one skipped ahead three days to the New Year's was how long she'd known Hajime Saito, former third captain of the Shinsengumi. How long a time and yet how short. He was still with Yaso, but she'd expected nothing else. Kurasawa was still complaining about not being able to get any of them married though Haruna was certain by next July she'd get Ichiro-san to notice her and there'd be a wedding. Satsuki was still pestering everyone and Amane was still quiet and attentive.

She was still madly in love with Saito, though they both still pretended indifference in front of everyone else. It would have been improper to expect anything else; he was married to another woman after all. Yaso was still determined to get him to open up, though apparently Saito had let her in on a few things to appease her. She knew Saito didn't love Yaso, but that he cared at least. The only reason she knew that much was because she'd prodded him insistently every time they were alone to tell her and he'd finally given in.

Almost two years and though she still cried at night that he was married to Yaso and not her there was little she could do to change it. She was happy about the time she got with Saito, although she was depressed about the fact that she feared she'd died a virgin. Saito had offered to alleviate her worry, but only jokingly.

Both of them were strict moralists, especially Saito, and infidelity was a strict no-no, so neither had ever gone anything more than hold hands and that was rare. It was better not to touch him, it was safer not to, she might lose herself in his touch. Besides knowing Saito if he ever accidentally strayed, not likely in the least, he'd probably go and commit a rigorous seppuku on himself. If that happened, though she didn't like to think of it, she'd probably commit jigai. It was stupid to think like that. It was never ever going to happen.

Oh the woes of dying a virgin. Not that she couldn't think about making love to him, she wondered if Saito considered thinking evil was just as bad and would have killed her for it. Hm…she laughed aloud. Amane looked up from her work to stare. Satsuki sat up from her nap, asking where the fire was.

She blushed, "Sorry, Amane-san, Satsuki-san."

"Keep it down, I was taking a nap, Tokio-san," she leaned her head against the table. "Har-san kept me up all night with talk of Ichiro-san." She yawned, closing her eyes, a smile slipping onto her face. "If I even hear one more sentence with that name in it I'm going to scre―."

"I saw Ichiro-san in Gonohe today," squealed Haruna running into the room.

Satsuki yelled, "Get out!"

Haruna ignored her, "Oh, Ichiro-san, my little good yakuza. He's so handsome."

Amane shook her head, "All yakuza are bad, Haruna-san. You should find a gentle farmer or doctor, not a rough yakuza."

"But Goro-san kills people and no one tells him no. Besides Ichiro-san probably never even hurt a fly, yakuza aren't all evil. Not my Ichiro-chan."

"Just hope Goro-san never meets Ichiro-san," she said. Saito would definitely kill 'Haruna's Ichiro' if they ever met.

"No way would ugly Goro-san be able to take my handsome brave Ichiro-san."

"Keep thinking that," Satsuki mumbling in her half sleeping state. She was hit on the back of the head by Haruna's fan.

* * *

The New Year End Fair was her favorite festival and possibly her favorite day of the year. The reason she loved the fair so much had little to do with festival itself but more with the fact that it had been the first and only time Saito had said he loved her.

So both her questions of last year had been answered nicely. Question One: Did Hajime Saito return any of her feelings? Answer: Yes, he loved her too. Second One: Was Saito happy married to Yaso? Answer: more complicated than her pervious question. Saito had told her he was happy with life, content more or less, but that he would have been much, much happier married to her. As bad as that made her feel for Yaso, she wanted to be Saito's main love. She was aware of how selfish that was, aware of how wrong it was and how hurtful to Yaso. She didn't think she really deserved to be his true love, it should have been Yaso she felt, but well…life was complicated.

She wore a yellow kimono, a darker shade than she'd worn last year. She had one gold kanzashi and a gold ribbon in her hair. Gold reminded her of his eyes. She chose a light blue obi and under garment. Everyone was walking to the fair, Saito in silence, Yaso chatting pleasantly about the weather beside him, Amane, Haruna, and Satsuki chatting like hens, and Kurasawa and Ueda in front mumbling to each other about a cold hearted Wolf. Both men had lately taken up dissecting Saito's character and making wise cracks whenever his head was turned.

She watched Haruna run off in search of her Ichiro-san the instant they arrived in Gonohe. Satsuki and Amane went to a vendor, wanting sweets. Saito with Yaso following like a cub went in search of somewhere quiet. Kurasawa and Ueda were determined to see which one of them could out drink the other in a sake contest. She walked by herself, passing smiling children and parents trying to tame them. She saw plenty of couples, some discreetly trying to hold hands while others blushed the color of cherry blossoms at the thought.

She felt a trickle of sorrow, knowing she could never openly blush at Saito or even hold his hand. She would never get the chance to yank that cigarette from his arrogant smirking lips and kiss them. She'd never be able to lie in his arms at night and run her fingers through his black hair. She'd never be able to feel his caress or hot breath against her skin. She'd die a blushing virgin. She'd die without ever experiencing the greatest pleasure of love. She closed her eyes, it was better not to think about it, it only hurt. She'd made her choice to love Saito, she couldn't give it half an obliged by lying with another man. She'd reconciled herself with the thought that she'd only experience half of this love, but even that little half was worth more than an empty relationship with another man. She never have her own children either, but well…she'd never liked children that much anyway.

She was started when a sharp object pressed against her back just above her obi. Her eyes went wide when a hand clamped swiftly over her mouth. She'd traveled too far from fairgrounds, into the darkness of the surrounding alleys. Rough hands pushed her forward, the dagger digging into her back. No, she thought with anger, this couldn't be happening.

* * *

Saito sat indifferently, it was getting late. Yaso was watching the children, saying something about wanting some of her own. He rolled his eyes skyward when she wasn't looking; he didn't intent on ever having any annoying brats around. He disliked babies, hated children, and disdained semi-adults even more. Children could be merciless little killers on the inside and he'd be damned if he ever spawned a little creeper just to get stabbed in the back later in life. Maybe he was a little paranoid but he had the right to be. He'd seen children turn in the blink of an eye, Okita for example. Fine Okita was a bad example; he hadn't really been a child during his Shinsengumi days. Emotionally he was five though.

He caught the sight of Kurasawa and Ueda. Neither man looked very stable on his feet at present. Yaso was hiding a chuckle, he smiled, good idea to laugh at the morons. They were making a funny show, Ueda's kimono all askew and Kurasawa with spilled sake all over his lap. He looked like he hadn't been able to hold himself back. His lips twitched, morons. They were shameful. He'd never have done anything so dishonorable.

Where were the other women? He guessed Haruna, Amane, and Satsuki were together or that one of them was with Tokio…Sada…hm…annoying semi-pretty witch. He took another drag of his cigarette, wondering what Tokio would have looked like in a witch outfit. He nearly snorted, but controlled himself. He was one for disciple after all. Another reason his children would have killed him. They'd probably think he was too strict, children were lax little shits.

Kurasawa laughed at some nonsense Ueda had stuttered in his drunken state. "Hey, Goro and Yaso. Sake is good. How come you never drink any, Sai?"

Sai? Was the moron trying to pronounce Saito while drunk? He glared at Kurasawa; no one should ever call him Sai. It sounded girlish and he was far from girlish. The idiot also had forgotten that he wasn't to be addressed him with that name, out in public or otherwise. Was he going to have to beat Kurasawa up to keep the peace? Probably. If it happened he'd relish it. It would be suiting payback for the insulting name.

Ueda was less drunk and noticed Saito's glare where Kurasawa was oblivious. He started to mumble, he wouldn't mind seeing Kurasawa get his ass beat by Saito. It would show him for having beaten him at the sake contest.

It wasn't long before the girls wandered in their direction and everyone but Tokio was present. "I wonder where she is," Satsuki asked, glancing at the drunken companions with worry. She seemed more worried they'd hurt themselves then of Tokio's getting lost.

"She probably just forgot the time while looking through the vendor's merchandise," said his wife. Sometimes his wife was stupid, but he let it go because if he pointed it out she'd just get angry and he'd be put outside like a bad dog. Not that he would have minded over much. Tokio was usually outside to keep him company.

He pulled out a cigarette. This was strange behavior for her. They had all planned to meet by the town center when the fair was winding down. Where was she? She wasn't one to be late and certainly not because of some vendor's products. He lit his cigarette, inhaling and exhaling the cancer inducing smoke. Good relaxing toxic, it did wonders for his nerves.

There was still time to spare in wait. He frowned, glancing around as the crowd started to thin out. Satsuki was yelling at Haruna, the girl had been disappointed because she couldn't find someone in the fair. Kurasawa was leaning against Ueda. Ueda was barking at him to get off, but Kurasawa was half asleep. Yaso was asleep beside him, her head lightly on his shoulder. He was too anxious to bother to push her off, such a trivial thing was unimportant at present. Amane was the only one who looked as concerned as he felt on the inside. Something was not right about this.

Twenty minutes passed. Satsuki and Haruna starting yawning also, looking around the almost completely empty fair grounds. "Maybe she went back?"

"I don't think she'd leave without telling anyone, Har-san," Amane said, looking perplexed. No one said much. Saito was going to take out another cigarette if she didn't show in five minutes. He was really starting to wonder what was going on.

Suddenly a man appeared, the fairgrounds were all but empty expect for that man and a few others waiting for the last light before going back home. Saito stood. The man wore daisho. His eyes narrowed; did he have to kill someone tonight? He cracked his knuckles, eying the man with a sardonic grin.

This was a lot more exciting than this whole year. Living with Kurasawa was well enough but boring and being a peddler was a dull occupancy. He sometimes missed the Shinsengumi days if for no other reason than the chaotic thrilling nights of hunting hitokiri like the Battousai, the occasional guard duty where stupid Ishin shishi attacked and were slaughtered, and the occasional raids. Yes, those times had been so much more fun…and dangerous not only for him but those he cared about. He'd never tell anyone, but he cared about Kurasawa, Yaso, Ueda, etc. His grief would have been ten times more acute if Tokio died over any of the others around him, but it was saying a lot if he even cared a little about them.

The man pulled his sugegasa off. Why was he wearing a sugegasa at this time of night? Idiot. He was trying to look suspicious that much was clear, but why draw attention like that? Unless he wanted Saito to engage him in a fight. He frowned, two reason for this man's actions, 1) he wanted Saito to notice him and start a fight because he was so arrogant in his skills or 2) this was some sort of trap.

The logical part of him wondered if this man had any connection to the first man and the group of men. He glared, if that was so he should utilize this moron before killing him. If he was lucky he could find the man hiring all the hitokiri and finish him off. It was easier to yank a flower out by the base than at the top of the stem.

He smiled as he approached the man. A blade collided with the hilt of his wakizashi and grinded to a halt on its cross guard. He pushed the sword away, pulling his katana out in the same motion and decapitating the fool who'd attacked him. He laughed, seeing the other man who'd been with the one he'd killed run away.

He turned back to the real enemy. The man was standing with drawn sword, watching him not with fear, but admiration. The fool wouldn't be admiring his skill when he killed him with it. He walked over, stopping a few steps away.

The man's brown eyes gleamed with amusement. Saito watched the man fall into his stance, his sword placed in a style close to hasso-no-kamae. Wait, he'd seen this before. It was tonbo-no-kamae. The dragonfly stance. This man was using the Jigen-ryu style. Idiot. Now there wasn't even the slightest chance he'd lose.

He smiled, time to die. "Prepare," he leapt. The tonbo-no-kamae was a distraction he realized too late. The man drew his wakizashi as Saito came into his range and just barely leapt back in time to avoid getting slashed in half. Damn it, this was going to be harder than he'd expected. This wasn't Jigen-ryu, but Niten Ichi-ryu. Considerably harder to beat…shit.

He glared, standing from his previous crouch. The man laughed, "Surprised, Hajime Saito?"

"Who sent you?" How could someone or even a well-off group have afforded this man? He wondered on this, whoever was sending all these hitokiri, especially this man, must have been afraid of him. He ground his teeth together; to have hired a Niten Ichi-ryu hitokiri must have been expensive. The two-handed style of swordsmanship Niten Ichi-ryu required limited those willing to learn it, therefore whoever this man was working for must have searched extensively to find him.

He got into the stance for the Gatotsu, half crouching with both knees bent, left arm drawn back holding the end of the hilt and right hand extended, thumb on the blade near the tip. He wondered how advanced his opponent was in the style. Probably higher than a beginner, but surely no Menkyo Kaiden. He had to be carefully not to let the quick moving wakizashi hit him, not that the katana wasn't a hassle too but that would serve as the offensive weapon not the attacking one. He'd formed a plan, time to execute it.

He attacked, the man dodged his attack with the katana as expected. He ducked the incoming wakizashi and with a zori sandaled foot kicking his opponent in the gut. The man stumbled back, caught off guard. He advanced just as the man was recovering and sparkles flew up as swords' clashed.

"Tell me who sent you?"

"Not going to happen, all you need to know is that death for you is assured," the wakizashi he'd been watching closely stabbed his right leg.

He felt the bite of the wakizashi as it sliced into his leg, blood started to pour onto his hakama. He glared, "If you're not going to cooperate," he hissed, bringing the handle of his katana down onto the man's hand. He heard the cracking of bones with satisfaction. He grasped the hilt and yanked the wakizashi out of his leg. With a swift motion the wakizashi was in the owners face. "I'm going to have to kill you."

The man's eyes widened and in that instant a hand reached for the wakizashi at his side. He'd been prepared for such a move and negated the attack by stabbing the hand with the wakizashi he was holding. The man screamed like an animal and the Lone Wolf of Mibu smiled.

"Now, now, no dirty tricks. Tell me what I want to know and maybe I'll let you live," he smiled pleasantly, placing the wakizashi to the man's throat. He seem to be considering if the fight was worth it with only his katana and his opponent with three weapons. He hesitated, glared, sweat, and then sighed in defeat.

Saito's amber eyes gloated victory for a second before the man's words killed that victory. "There is no life for a defeated samurai," the pressure from the katana faded as he pulled it away and without flinching stabbed himself in the stomach in seppuku fashion.

Saito sighed as he watched the man drop to his knees, pulling the sword across his stomach. His brown eyes looked almost relieved. Saito dropped the wakizashi and acting as his second beheaded him. The head rolled a little ways, getting covered in snow. The red against the white was almost pretty.

He turned to find Satsuki, Haruna, and Yaso, now fully wake, looking at him in horror. Ueda and Kurasawa had missed the fight, both blissfully asleep. He raised his katana, almost as if in greeting and brought it down sharply, shaking off the blood. He sheathed it smoothly and started towards them. Yaso was first to move by standing, "Your leg, Goro-san."

"It's a minor problem." He glanced around, the few people who'd been around at the beginning of the fight had cleared out readily enough. Damn her, why wasn't she here? "Where is she?"

"You mean Tokio-san," he glared at Haruna because of the stupidity of that remark and sat down beside Ueda and Kurasawa's sleeping forms. Yaso was beside him in seconds, her face worried. What was wrong with her? Was she worried about Tokio? No his leg, he realized after a moment.

She went to rip her kimono, but he stopped her with a wave. "Don't ruin a perfectly fine kimono. Didn't Kurasawa just buy you that expensive one?" She didn't drop her eyes from the cloth, he shook off his haori. He ripped it and started to bandage himself. Yaso insisted she'd do it and he let her, he felt a little lightheaded from the lost of blood. He reached for his cigarettes, only to find that he was out. He made a disgruntled face and Yaso stopped thinking she'd hurt him. He showed her the empty pack and tucked it away.

"We should go find Tokio-san," he said.

"You shouldn't move, husband," Yaso tied the bandage, her hands had been shaking but she'd done a good enough job. He smiled, such a silly woman his wife was.

"Wake the drunkards," he told one of the girls. Satsuki did as he said and shook Ueda awake.

"What did I miss?" The man stared at her, the scene behind her, and than at Saito and his leg.

"Enough. Another bloody attack…for my opponents that is."

"Looks like someone actually hurt you too this time."

"It is nothing compared to the Bakufu days. Hardly a scratch."

"Where's Tokio-san?" Kurasawa asked, sitting up. He looked more sober than before.

"No idea." He felt the urge to light a cigarette nag at him, but ignored it. There was a certain someone missing and she was more precious than all the damn cigarettes in the world. Not that any other soul but his own would ever know that. "Let's go visit someone," he mumbled, getting up despite the sharp protests from his wife.

They walked to the house. It was on the outskirts of Gonohe and had several men hanging around outside. Most were either half drunk or completely out of it. There was no need for strong security in a little town where the villagers were too afraid to even look at the yakuza. Because of the high rate of Aizu warriors here the yakuza usually stayed away from them and offered to protect the shopkeepers from the desperate samurai for a little profit. Not that a real samurai would attack shopkeepers, but the yakuza knew how to exploit the truth easily enough. Tonight they would find they'd messed with the wrong Miburo.

He killed the lax guards with two quick strikes. He told the woman to stay outside and went inside with the two men. Once inside they walked down the hall, Ueda and Kurasawa busily looking inside rooms. "Doesn't seem like anyone is using these ro…oms…" He stopped, peering inside a shoji, closed it, opened it again, and slid it shut with force.

Kurasawa raised a bow, "What was inside there?"

Ueda was slightly pale, he shook his head, "You do not want―."

Kurasawa waved him off and looked inside, shutting the shoji with shock when he saw what it was. Saito raised a bow, what morons. He peeked inside, saw a young man and older man fondling each other, and shut the shoji. He wished he had a cigarette.

"Should we do anything about that," Ueda asked as Saito began walking away.

"That isn't evil," Saito remarked, both Ueda and Kurasawa exchanged glances, thinking the same thought they walked a little slower behind Saito. "But they are yakuza."

They exchanged nervous glances. Most of the other rooms were empty. They came across a cat eating some fish left behind on a tatami mat, but the place seemed empty. That was weird.

Saito saw the flutter of a kimono sleeve disappear around the corner and sprinting down the hall caught up with the person. It was a woman carrying empty sake jars. She gaped at the wounded man, dropping the tray in her surprise. He caught the tray and grabbed her. One hand balancing the tray and the other pressing to her mouth. She'd been about to scream, they didn't need anyone finding them just yet. Kurasawa took the tray from him.

"Listen," he barked, "Where are the women or captives quarters? We're looking for a woman kidnapped tonight? Brown eyes, black hair, yellow kimono, to my shoulder in height. Where would they be keeping her?"

He slowly let go of her mouth. Her eyes were blue, he realized suddenly, a strange color for a Japanese woman. He could see the blush on her white painted cheeks. She said softly, "She'd be with the men. They take their enjoyment of the new women right now. I just came from there. I need to fetch more sake…"

"That can be delayed a moment…how many women do they enjoy?" Ueda and Kurasawa looked horrified at the thought that Tokio was probably…being…well… The thought that some man was raping Tokio was not even getting a mental image. He wouldn't even consider the thought. If those yakuza bastards even dared to touch a hair on her pretty head they would find that the rest of their lives would be haunted by a Wolf torturing them. He'd castrate them first, shove the thing so far up their asses they'd be begging for mercy, and than spend a week at least torturing them in other foul manners.

He cleared his head of those thoughts as the girl squeaked. "It depends on how many they take at the fair, but probably three, four, maybe more."

He ground his teeth together, likely there was no saving her from that horror. It had probably already begun long ago in his estimations. He glared at the wall, punched it viciously, cursed swiftly, and turned on the little helpless creature staring at him like a doe would a wolf. "Where are the ladies quarters? Do they return the women after they'd have their fill?"

"Wait, Goro-san, you can't be serious about letting them…do that…to….to…Tokio-san?" Kurasawa was shaking, he was her adopted father so it was only understandable that the idea of her experiencing such mental and physical aguish would bother him.

"As we are we can't take on a large group of yakuza," he really wished he'd had a cigarette at present. "Our best course of action is to wait in the ladies apartment and attack the men who bring them back. Kill them, get her, and get out of here. We'll have to alert the officials afterwards and hopefully all of the yakuza get arrested. If not we can always live to fight another day as it were," he would have been taking a drag at the moment if he'd had a cigarette in hand. "We are limited in what is available to us and can't do anything else. In the Shinsengumi days such an organization wouldn't have existed for this long. But this is a rural town and such outlaws flourish where weak men do. This town should have acted long ago to get these yakuza out of here, but weaklings' usually only do things when scared for their lives. They'd sacrifice their daughters and sons to save their hides. I hate such evil," his eyes were merciless gold orbs that would have killed all of the Gonohe villagers had he been able to. When he turned his eyes on her, the woman squirmed, "Ladies apartment? How many times must I ask?"

Her face flushed and she just opened her mouth to gape. "Why don't you just show us and then go serve some sake? Don't breath a word about us and we'll take you with us when we leave, got it?"

She nodded her head wearily and strolled off down the corridor. He followed, a wolf going into the lair of a pack of flea bitten dogs whose masters had been careless.


	8. Chapter 8: Tonami, 1872, Part 2

Thanks for all the wonderfully long reviews, they really make my day. So now we all figure out why that yakuza guy was watching Tokio. Yeah. Anyway I'm actually doing Saito's POV, hope I don't screw him up, I find writing Tokio's POV much easier but we'll see. Also I plan on doing a small part in Yaso's POV later. I'll admit I don't really like how most fanfiction stories often portray her, I don't think Saito would have married her if she was a complete vixen or anything, but I guess that's just my thoughts. I personally think historical Saito, not RK Saito, was probably in love with Yaso since he married her and all. I just wanted to portray her in a different not entirely bad light, but that doesn't mean I don't love Tokio and think she's better for Saito. Anyway on with the story.

* * *

Tokio barely suppressed a scream as one of the girls was forcing onto her back, her arms and legs secured by the hands of the other yakuza. Her kimono, already ripped by the first rape, was pushed aside and her leg thrust open.

She turned away, it would be worse if they singled her out again. The last time she'd tried to save another girl from the men she'd just been forced onto her knees and raped instead as punishment. She couldn't bear another time. She would break down crying this time. The other girls had wept their first times, but she'd held firm and only mumbled curses at the men that she'd heard from Kurasawa and Ueda. This had made her more interesting than their other playmates and had only made them all excited to try her too. It was Ichiro Shimada who'd taken her virginity and that of every other girl. It seemed as the leader of the yakuza here he got to sample each girl before he gave them to the mutts.

She quickly learned after the third time that cursing made it worse. The first one after Ichiro had hit her harder at her words and made it much more painful. The second hadn't been so kind either. She'd stopped even speaking by the fourth and that had made them bored. They liked the cursing or crying better. No one struggled after the first time by Ichiro. He'd beaten that lesson into all of them when he'd killed one girl who'd flailed around too much.

She bowed her head, not sitting seiza because her ankle had been strained during her attempt to run when she'd realize what they'd planned. Ichiro had smacked her good for that when he'd taken her and the force had been enough to make it bruise there near her left eye. She could hear the whimpering of some of the girls nearby. It was better not to know their names. Much better not to even look at them and see their pain. How much her cuts, bruises, and wounded pride hurt didn't feel that bad compared to their pained faces. She'd forget the bruises in time, but not their faces.

She'd wait until later before devising an escape plan. There was no way she'd be the yakuza's plaything for the rest of her life. She didn't intent to let this continue. Either she'd escape, fight until she died, or commit jigai if no escape was possible. Better she die with honor than die a slave to lecherous men. She'd try escaping first, that was the safest and involving her getting out alive. She wanted to live, she wanted to at least see those amber eyes again before she died. Her kanzashi had been snatched by one of the men for his main wench, who sat proudly showing everyone her new trinket. But she had her ribbon and that was almost the shade of his eyes. She held it in her hands, her hold on it tighter than death. If the yakuza bastards tried to take that from her too she'd revolt violently.

* * *

Saito sat, watching the few women in the room. Most were unattractive scared things, looking weary and nervous at the sudden unexpected guests. Ueda stood by the door, peeking out every now and again to see if the yakuza were bringing her back yet. Kurasawa sat with his head in his hands, Saito wasn't sure if the man was crying or merely having a mental breakdown.

He ran a hand through his hair, expressionless. On the inside he wanted to go kill some yakuza shits, but knew it was better to wait. Tokio…his Sada…he wanted to kill and destroy everything. How could the Meiji have allowed the damned yakuza to function like this without doing anything? That was far from the righteous Choshu bastards from the revolution who'd claimed the Shogunate had let evil go wild in Japan. Now how had they changed anything? They'd only killed a large population of samurai and impoverished the rest.

If only he'd known about the yakuza's operations here. He'd heard a few mumbled complains about the yakuza from Gonohe villagers but they'd been reluctant to dispense anything else. He'd heard they merely did some work with the shopkeepers, protection stuff, that was common yakuza. Some large rings of yakuza in Tokyo and Kyoto selled sex and drugs, but he'd figured with the information he had and the small group that nothing more was going on. Protecting a businessman from ruffians wasn't illegal so he'd let it go. If only he hadn't, if only he'd dug deeper and found this sordid little band of yakuza's bastard before anything had happened to his precious Tokio.

If only…if only he'd protected her…been there to stop her kidnapping…been there to make sure she didn't get hurt. Now she was likely experiencing horrors beyond her imagination and he'd not been able to stop it. He glared at the wall, just wait yakuza…just wait Tokio…He'd burn this whole world down just to save her. She was the only good thing left in his life and he'd do anything to save that virtuous caring woman.

He really needed a cigarette because he was getting sentimental without one. His ears pricked at the noise, "They're finally back." Kurasawa came to his senses at the sudden words, glancing up at Saito. "Take your frustration out on them if you want Kurasawa-san. I'll kill them after you beat them up."

Kurasawa and Ueda stared at him, Ueda shaking his head softly. "I don't want to kill anyone. I just want Tokio-san to be safe."

"Fine with me, Kurasawa-san. I'll just kill the evil by myself," hadn't he been doing that from the beginning? He was the Lone Wolf of Mibu after all.

He seized the hilt of his katana and brought the flashing blade out. He gave the women in the room a look that said if they screamed he'd make them regret it. Fear was something these women knew. The door started to open as a guard snickered, calling to his companions, "Maybe we should have some fun before we put these ladies back, eh?"

"Look no further for fun," several heads swiveled in his direction. "Where you'll be going is fun. It's called hell." The first man drew his blade but it was too late to block the slash to the chest Saito gave. The man collapsed, blood pouring from the wound.

The second and third men drew their blades as the body collapsed and leaping over their dead comrade found swift deaths waiting. The last man was cowering against the wall in the hall, looking too scared to even bother running. He looked drunk too, what with the bright red in his cheeks and the look in his eyes. Saito walked pass the girls and went to the man. He mumbled something incoherently, burying his head in his arms as Saito brought his sword down on his exposed neck. The head stayed lodged in place because of his arms.

Saito turned around, eying the new arrivals. They all looked like they'd just step out of graves. Kimonos torn and soiled, little blood strains apparent from where they'd lost their virginity. His throat tightened when he saw her. Her brown eyes were wide, the kimono he'd thought looked so well on her in tatters, her hair wild and disorganized. This was the first time he'd ever see Tokio look anything but the lady of Aizu she was and he swore it would be the last. Kurasawa hugged her, muttering nonsense about her being safe.

"Kurasawa-sama," she whispered, "you're hurting me." He let out, touching her right cheek because of the bruise on the left. He looked ready to cry. Ueda came over to them, looking disgusted at the state the women where in. No woman deserved to be treated like that. No person should ever be treated worse than an animal, Saito thought.

"We should go," he said. Ueda met his eyes and saw the fire there. Saito was far from happy. This was not the Meiji era Saito, but the Bakumatsu Saito. He shivered instantly at the thought, watching the other put the katana into its scabbard. Gold eyes glared at everything as he started walking away.

"Let's leave," Kurasawa sounded relieved and with good reason.

"What about the other ladies?"

"Let them come if they want," replied Saito's stern voice. "No being should want to stay and endure such hardship I should think."

The women shared scared looks, not looking certain on whether or not they trusted them. It was one of the new arrivals who hurried after them first and than the rest of the girls came. The woman in the room waited the longest, murmuring between themselves before one took the intuitive and caught up with them as they turned the corner. The rest didn't want to stay and endure the punishment that would come when Ichiro found the bodies; they'd rather chance this escape. Good for them, Saito mussed, it meant they had some spine left. Unlike the villagers, when they returned they'd find weaklings and cowards, not men and women. Hm…that would be bothersome for them when they found out no one had dared loved them enough to risk their lives. He snorted, well that was what happened in the world, some were weak and some were strong, but it was amusing to think about. His sardonic nature was coming out.

The yakuza men must have been busy either drinking or gambling likely and no one noticed their escape. He paused at a room on his way out and came out a second later with fresh blood on his sword. Kurasawa and Ueda met his eyes, he chuckled, "Thought I forgot about them?" They walked right out, passing the bodies of the sentries. Yaso, Satsuki, Amane, and Haruna ran over when they saw Saito's tall figure out come the entrance way. Yaso hugged him and he stared blankly at her outburst. She'd been crying, he noticed, what the hell for? Tokio was fine. Hm…

Satsuki and Haruna both hugged Tokio who complained about her injures. This was followed by apologies on the part of the idiots. Tokio met his eyes and he saw that she was close to tears. He liked the way her eyes shined. He turned away from her and started walking. His leg gave a pang of pain and he realized in his adrenaline pumped state he'd hardly noticed. He smirked, it didn't matter that he'd sustained a minor wound, Tokio was safe and that was what mattered, everything else including his own wound was trivial.

* * *

He sat up, glancing at Yaso turned on her side away from him. Her black hair was spread over her shoulder and face. He watched her silently, her even breathing the tell-tale sign of sleep. He knew she was beautiful, many men said so daily to him how lucky he was to have such a beautiful wife, but he took little pleasure in that fact. Outside beauty was pleasing to look at, but that was all it was. Inner beauty was so much more appealing, for example Tokio's inner beauty always succeed in amazing him. Hm…he knew he shouldn't think of her when he lay beside his wife, but it was hard because she never really left his thoughts.

He looked for his fundoshi and picked it up. He stood, winding the cloth around his hips and bringing it back around his legs. He tied it in back with the belt-cloth. He became still, hearing some noise. He frowned, what was going on outside? He picked up the kimono and juban he'd chosen for today. Once dressed he put on his obi and tied his hair back in a topknot.

He left before Yaso would wake. He went to the gardens, hoping to see her. Tokio was indeed outside. She was staring at her bruised arms, her kimono sleeves pushed back. She was wearing a light blue kimono with a yellow obi.

He found the sight of her skin tempting, but he quickly became annoyed by the bruises. He sat down beside her, she looked startled. "Goro-san," she bowed.

He snorted, putting his arms inside the sleeves of his kimono. He noticed her simple hairstyle, pulled back by a yellow ribbon with another ribbon at the tail end of her hair. She looked so appealing…hm…

He turned his eyes away, frowning at some thought that crossed his mind. "Do you think the yakuza sent the hitokiri?"

"I don't know. Kurasawa-sama said you were attacked once more. I asked because I'd seen your leg." He shrugged, "Goro-san?"

"What?"

"Thank you…"

He grunted, "Did you doubt me?"

Her eyes went wide, "I feared you wouldn't know where I was, not that you wouldn't come once you found out."

Smart girl. "I don't think the yakuza sent the hitokiri. The last three alone would have exceeded their money. I don't like to think that I have someone with a ton of money sending hitokiri after me. I don't mind killing them, but I find it a nuance that people keep popping up to off me."

She laughed, "Goro-san, there isn't much you can do unless you find out who's after you."

He smirked, "Kurasawa-san wants to move into another residence in Gonohe. He discussed it with me last night. Yaso-san and I will be leaving to go live with Ueda-san. Ueda-san has given his permission for us to live in his household."

He observed her startled expression, her hands folding into her lap, the gentle slop to her slender shoulders. What he'd said was hurting her, but it had to be said. "Kurasawa-san is worried about everyone's safety here, so it is natural that he'd want the one bringing the danger to leave."

"But…"

"Don't ask."

"But…when will I see you? How often?" She'd asked what he hadn't wanted her to.

He shrugged, pulling out his cigarettes. He frowned at the empty pack, realizing he'd forgotten to buy more. He'd go in a little while and get some more. He really needed it to ease his nerves.

"Ueda-san only visits once a month at best," he heard the desperation leaking into her voice, heard her pain as clearly as if it was the pain in his own heart.

"There is nothing we can do to prevent this. We must do as Kurasawa-san requires."

"But…Goro-san…Haj―."

He stopped her sharply, "Sorrow will dissolve in time." He didn't want to hear her say that name, it would only worsen things.

"Do not dwell on sorrow," she mumbled, her eyes sparkling with tears. "You said those words to Okita-san."

"I did."

"Did shoving it away and not thinking about it make it go away? Did Okita-san's sorrow really dissolve in time?" He didn't response, looking out at the garden. He felt her weight against his left shoulder. One hand clutched at his neck and the other at the front of his kimono.

"Someone might see," he muttered. She didn't move, in fact her hands gripped more tightly. "Stop," he grabbed her wrist, yanked it off his kimono, and shoved her away.

Tokio stared at his face from her spot on the porch, he was as expressionless as ever. His eyes were closed, his breathing even, and his hands still in his lap. He could have been a Buddha statue expect for the breathing. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched him. His eyes opened and he turned his head to look at her. Her eyes widened and the tears spilled out when she saw the amber orbs.

"Sorrow never leaves, Sada-san. It stays lodged in the heart, no matter how disciplined the person or how careful one is to hide it and make it disappear. Okita knew that and so do I. Okita hid his sorrow behind one of joy and I…I hide mine with indifference." He chuckled dryly, "I won't forget the time we spent together, Tokio-san. I won't forget you so don't forget me." He left her alone on the porch, his step sounded lighter to her than when he'd walked out.

"Never, Hajime," she cried to herself. Neither she nor Saito were aware of the pair of brown eyes watching them with hatred.


	9. Chapter 9: Tonami, 1872, Part 3

Reviews are lovely as always, and to Illegimiti you don't need to review every chapter, it's up to you and I want you to know your reviews are really kind thank you. After 1871 and 1872 the years will start going by faster merely because not many noteworthy things happen in a year, you know what I mean? So likely the chapters will be either one chapter for year or more than one year in a chapter. It just depends on the year. Most of the information is historical things that happened to the real Saito. Kenshingumi will appear in 1878 since the storyline for RK begins in the 10th Year of the Meiji. I don't have that far ahead calculated so I can't really say how big of a part the Kenshingumi will have. I don't know yet, still hashing out those details. Anyway R&R and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I hope my portrayal of Okubo isn't offending, lol.

* * *

"Goodbye old house," Kurasawa knelt before the alcove and stood a minute later. "I've had many good memories here," he said as he turned to the waiting others. Tokio smiled, so had she. So many good memories of days spent with Amane, Yaso, Satsuki, and Haruna. Many laughs and playful banter as if they were all sisters. Kurasawa's gentle yells from down the hall asking for peace. Ueda being sterner coming into the room and demanding quiet the few nights he'd stayed over. Saito's smiles, quirky humor, and rolling eyes. She smiled, she'd loved living here because of her friends and adopted father. She'd miss this place dearly and she'd miss seeing Saito and Yaso all the time.

* * *

The new house was a lot smaller, but they'd expected that when they'd first seen it. Her room barely fit her futon, she noticed, and would have to double as sitting room when her futon was in the closest. She didn't mind the small place. She set out her few things, kimono, fans, trinkets, and the three books she owned. She saw the fan Teruhime had given her and smiled remembering the occasion.

_"Teruhime-sama?" Teruhime had invited her into her quarters, the servant who'd led her here was dismissed by the princess as she bowed. "Do you need something?"_

_"As a lady-in-waiting, Tokio-san, you've been nothing short of helpful. Your company has been the highlight of most of my days with weak-minded servants and ideological samurai who don't even know what ideological means." It was strange when Teru was serious. Usually she was laughing or pouting, which ever the situation call for. _

_"Yes, Teruhime-sama."_

_"Teru-sama is fine."_

_She bowed deeper and rose at a signal from Teru. The princess waved her over and she stopped before her. "I want you to pick out a fan from the ones before me. Whichever pleases you more, my Tokio-kun." The fans were all lovely, some with elaborate paintings and others of a more garden variety. All beautiful in their own right. She picked up a white fan with light blue raindrops. She liked it. She flipped it over to find plum blossoms in a sunny day on the opposite side._

_"Thank you, Teru-sama, it's so pretty."_

_"It's perfect for you, Tokio-san," and Teru was her smiling self again._

She flipped open the fan, meeting the raindrop side. She frowned, her mood today felt a little down. She stood, dusting off her kimono. This place needed a good cleaning. She'd need the other three to help her.

She was looking for them when she ran into Kurasawa. He smiled, "How do you like it?"

He meant the house, "It's nice."

"Only nice?" He chuckled, "Well…humph."

She laughed, "Don't be grumpy, Kurasawa-sama. Do you know where Satsuki-san and the others are?"

"No. Would you mind telling a servant if you can find one to make some tea? I'm having a guest today."

"Who?" Was it Saito?

"An old friend, we need to make sure everything is perfect."

She frowned as he walked away, humming to himself. Kurasawa was sure feeling important today. She couldn't find any of the girls she so retired to her room in annoyance. She sat a while, glancing around the room, before she lifted her sleeve to check on her injuries. Her eyes fell onto where the bruises had been and than to where two cuts that still remained were. It had been a month since that night.

It seemed she was healing well. She pushed her sleeve back down and heard the noise of hooves. A horse? What? Why would a horse be here? She ordered a servant to prepare tea and went to where Kurasawa was waiting, smiling. A carriage had just stopped before there place. Was this his guest? Some villagers were staring and pointing.

The door was opened by the driver and a man stepped out. He was tall, brown haired with a beard and dressed like a westerner. Her eyes narrowed, why was such a man here? She was surprised when Saito came out behind him, smoking his usual cigarette.

She stared as the men came over. "Kurasawa Hieimon-san," Saito introduced as the two men bowed to each other, "Tokio Takagi-san."

His brown eyes smiled at her before he bowed. She bowed back, curious as to who this man was and how he knew Saito. "Secretary of the Interior, Okubo Toshimichi-san."

One of the Ishin-no-Sanketsu. He'd been instrumental in bringing down the Tokugawa, in setting up the Meiji government, and in bringing the Aizu clan to their knees. Her hand went to her mouth. She lowered it quickly when she felt his eyes on her. They were the eyes of a man who smiled often. Her heart burst with resentment. She'd never hated the Meiji government because their practices but…to think that this man lived ten times better than thousands of honest Aizu samurai was shameful.

She turned away from him and started into the house, aware of the alarmed gaze Kurasawa bestowed and the sharp look from Saito. She poured the three men tea as they all settled into comfortable positions. Her face was as controlled as her movements. She set the pot down and straightened her wrinkled kimono.

She eyed the men as they started to talk, Kurasawa asking of Okubo's health politely and Okubo being just as polite by asking about his household. Saito was silent throughout the small talk, he wasn't a man who enjoyed such trivial words and usually didn't response when asked about the weather and such. He was staring at the tatami mats with his hands peacefully in his lap.

She glared at the shoji leading out into the garden. She'd caught a glimpse of the garden on her last visit and found that whoever had lived here before them had left it in ruin. She'd hoped she could get the other women to help her get it back in shape, but she doubted they'd want to help. Haruna and Satsuki hated gardening and gardening upset Amane. Amane had started crying the first time Tokio had asked her to help her with the weeds at their old place. Apparently she'd helped her mother tend a small plot before her death in 1867. So that left the gardening to her, unless she could get the servants to help instead of doing chores, not likely because the servants would be cleaning and doing more important things.

Okubo was watching her closely, his eyes squinting slightly at her. She glared which received a bemused look. "Tokio-san?" She nodded her head stiffly, "May I be frank?" She nodded again, "I have a feeling you don't like me, but hate is common for me. Not many Aizu like me." His smile was strained, "I fought for my beliefs, Tokio-san, and so did the Aizu. You shouldn't hate me for killing in what I saw was justice. Forgive me if I ever had a hand in the deaths of any relations or―."

"There is no need for such foolishness," she snapped cutting his pointless words off. "You fought for your beliefs, Okubo-san, and for that I would respect you, not disdain you. I dislike you for another reason."

He looked startled, "Most people want me dead because of loved one's I've killed…Forgive me if I mistook your feelings. Why do you dislike me then?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Your immoral treatment of your enemies, Okubo-san. The Aizu have been debased and forced onto inhospitable terrain with little else but the clothing on their backs. They'd been defeated and by a worthy opponent but the treatment of the government upon the Aizu clan negated the value of the victory and tarnishes the reputation of the government."

Okubo's eyes widened as he looked at her, he lowered his eyes for a moment before glancing back up into hers again. He hesitated at the look in her eyes. She was like a statue, unflinching in her judgments of his actions, regarding him with little interest. To her he was no more than a fly. How did such a strong spirit exist? Who did she remind him of? He almost glanced at Saito, she was just as infallible as the man beside him.

"You can not blame me for the actions of my comrades. The Choshu, Satsuma, and Tosa clans could not let their enemies off lightly unless we want to appear weak to our unease international allies. We needed to unify Japan under one banner, we―."

"You speak nothing. To allow anyone, much less your comrades, to dictate your movements makes you nothing more than a child. You say this oppression of your enemies was necessity, I'm here telling you it was not and you should not have done it. Would you kill an inn owner for harboring Bakufu knowingly?"

"Yes."

"Would you kill a citizen merely spending the night there?"

He hesitated at that one, frowning, to kill an ignorant citizen was evil. "That is what you've done to Aizu. You've killed those not involved in the fighting by transplanting them to barren land and you feel no regret. You rightly killed the innkeeper, but you also killed the innocent citizen. That is why I hate you, Okubo-san."

He clutched his knees, looking anywhere but at her judging face. Kurasawa was too stunned by her talking to such a high official in that matter that he said nothing. Saito just finished off his cigarette and snubbed it out in the ash tray.

"You don't understand the complexity of life, Tokio-san. If you'd been in my place, if you'd been forced to deal with what I have you wouldn't be so quick to call my actions evil. You can't judge me, Onna, you haven't experienced as much of life as I have."

"You're right in saying I haven't experienced as much of life, I'm young yet and have so much more to figure out, but to dismiss your actions as practical or some other word is to compromise to evil. To say 'oh that must be done' because you're afraid of the consequences of going against that evil is evil too. Nothing more, nothing less and any respectable person should never go against Bushido. Rectitude is vital in a strong person, Okubo-san."

Okubo rose swiftly, the look in his eyes ferocious. "You would not be angry if what she said was false," Saito stood, meeting Okubo's eyes. "You see why I wanted you to meet Tokio-san. She is a strong willed woman," the look in Saito's gold eyes was unreadable to Okubo and Kurasawa, but Tokio understood it for what it was. Respect and tenderness glowed in those unfaltering eyes. "I accept the offer you extended to me earlier Okubo-san on the condition I never am asked to betray Bushido. You will undoubtedly ask me as your new hitokiri to kill innocent men so I'm warning you in advance I will only kill those who have faltered to follow Bushido. Ako Soku Zan. Do I make myself clear?"

Okubo nodded stiffly, "I think I've spent all the time here I'd like, Saito-san. This woman will see that holding to her old morals will not be easy in these changing times. Pressure from outside forces and life can be complicated beyond anything such petty woman can understand."

Tokio watched him go, disliking him even more after everything. He deserved little thought. Saito was becoming a hitokiri? Since when and for the Meiji government?

Saito came back a few minutes later and in that interim she'd hardly noticed that Kurasawa was chewing her out about her disrespectful behavior to Okubo. She met Saito's eyes as he entered and found them to be more captivating than usual. He was smirking. As he sat down in seiza she saw the spark in his eyes that said almost as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud, 'I love you more than ever.' She smiled and Kurasawa exploding at her, thinking she was making fun of him.


	10. Chapter 10: Tonami, 1873, Part 1

So I added a part in this chapter at the end in Yaso's POV. I don't like how most fan fictions portray her negatively or erase her from existence. If Saito and Yaso had never married they'd likely view each other as nuisances in their everyday lives. To Saito Yaso would just be another woman lodging at Kurasawa's house that bothers him. To Yaso Saito would have been a murdering psychopath who is scary and living with them because Kurasawa didn't want to kick him out, lol. But they did marry and their views changed, at least a little. I just don't think Saito and Yaso mesh together romantically, at all in fact. Yaso's more materialistic, a social climber, and selfish than Saito would ever been in a million years. That's not to say she's a bad person, she just shouldn't be married to the strict moralist that is Hajime Saito, lol. I think she'd be a lot better off with the more understanding Kurasawa, but that isn't happening any time soon. Ueda would probably be annoyed I didn't mention him, but I think he's too much of a traditionalist for Yaso to be agreeable with. Friends certainly, but she shouldn't be lovers or the wife of either Saito and Ueda...yeah. I'm ranting about fictional personalities of historical people...oh well. Anyway thanks for the reviews and please keep reading.

* * *

The garden was huge and weeding it alone would take more time than the light of the day allowed. She'd have to do a little each day, she reflected, and her other chores. She reached over and yanked another weed out. Her hands and kimono were dirty now, but she found the work enjoyable, despite being tiring. There was a particularly nasty weed in front of her now. She grasped it with both hands and yanked. It keep firm. She glared and making sure her hold was tight she pulled again. This time it budged a little, almost mockingly. She tried a third time and it finally came out. She grinned proudly, throwing it into the pile of weeds. She almost had a whole row cleared.

She noticed just how weak she was, Saito wouldn't have broken a sweat taking on the garden all by himself she was sure, yet she was exhausted by a single row. He's a samurai, she was a woman, it was a given that even the weakest man could take her in a fight because of his natural strength, a samurai wouldn't even have flinched. She frowned at the thought. She was weak. She'd always accepted her weak outside and knew it was a given.

This world was not set up to create strong women. Women were meant to be subservient and strong spirituality, but she was dishonorable if she was physically strong. Being spirituality strong was also only desirable so that she could endure her life, nothing more. To serve ones husband, sons, and than mother-in-law was how things worked, there was no middle ground, no defying this strict code. It was almost as rigid as Bushido. A woman had no place outside the house.

She sighed, it was annoyingly so. She pulled out some more weeds, her eyes glaring at the planets. Why did men get everything and them nothing? Only endure and bear it even if your husband was a lout and your children unruly, you had no other choice as a Bushido woman.

She sighed, touching the soft green stem of a weed before her hand.

"Even in a person/most times indifferent/to things around him/they waken feelings/the first winds of autumn."

She turned with a start when she heard him quoting Saigyo. He stood indifferently, looking straight at her with his wolf like eyes. She smiled and stood, dusting off her kimono.

"Having seen them long/I hold the flowers so dear/That when they scatter/I find it all the more sad/To bid them my last farewell." He smiled, pulling out a cigarette. "Must you always smoke?"

He shrugged and remarked, "I haven't seen you since Okubo-san visited." One month, three weeks and two days.

She smiled warmly as she said, "I didn't know you knew Saigyo's poetry." She was usually the one to initiate the conversation topic and she'd never thought to bring up poetry.

"I know some. Samurai must be well educated as well as strong. To be strong and stupid is wasteful of life, but to be wise and strong is to live a full life. Too many wise men died during the Bakumatsu and not enough dumb ones it seems."

She chuckled at the good mood Saito was in. "How's Yaso?"

"Humph…I should gather she is well enough."

"That's good." She sat down beside him, kicking off her zori scandals. He watched her silently swing her feet back and forth. She blushed when she realized he was watching her ankles. "Goro-san, that's an inappropriate place to look."

"I can't help that where I happen to be looking is where you're flaunting your feminine."

She laughed, "Early March already." He didn't remark on that. "Goro-san I want to be stronger. Will you teach me how to defend myself? I don't want to ki―."

"To wield a weapon is stating your intent to kill. Women shouldn't carry kaiken even, but since men nowadays can't even protect their own wives and families they must. It is disgraceful that a woman can not even be protected from ravenous mutts because her husband is incompetent."

She knew Saito's thoughts on women fighting, but she thought she'd at least risk asking. "I guess I'll just ask Ueda-san or Kurasawa-sama to teach me."

He snorted, "Ueda-san is stricter than I am so I doubt he'll want you learning anything tradition forbids. Kurasawa-san won't want you hurting yourself."

"Kurasawa-sama will probably teach me because he's afraid something like what happened at the Year End Fair might happen again." She stopped herself from remembering that horrible night with those crazed men.

Saito closed his eyes, blowing out smoke as he took a drag. "Don't be stupid. I'll be here to protect you."

"You're living with Ueda-san now so you can't be around all the time. If we ever part ways I'd be defenseless…" Let him imagine her getting raped again, she thought, she hated using his emotions to get him to do something, but she needed to learn this badly and it would be the only way to convince Saito if she reminded him of the one night he'd failed to protect her.

His eyes remained closed and she saw the way his fingers tightened almost to the point of crushing his cigarette. "You reminded me purposefully," he mumbled stiffly, "manipulating witch."

The harshness of those last two words strung fiercely, but she pushed those emotions away. Saito was just annoyed. He opened his eyes and looked at her, "Fine I'll teach you some basic defense, but I'm not handing you a kaiken or a naginata, got that?"

She smiled, "Thanks, Goro-san." She wouldn't be thanking him later.

* * *

She flew back, landing on her back, staring up at the ceiling of a spare room in Ueda's residence.

"Do," Saito hollered, having hit her on the lower side with a slashing cut. "Get up."

She sat up, knowing that tomorrow she'd have bruises. There was no giving in though, no turning back, she'd wanted this so she wouldn't back out and be a coward. She could deal with Saito thinking she was weak, she was after all, but she wasn't a coward.

"Prepare," he lunged at her and she just barely got her bokken up in time to block. He was going easy on her by using mostly his body weight and not his actual strength. If he'd been serious she'd have died a whole two hours ago. Her arm trembled as it started to give into the pressure, she willed her arm not to hurt, willed the heaviness to go away, but it wouldn't. Saito pulled back just before her arm would have caved in.

He attacked again and before she knew it she'd been hit on the top of the head. "Men," he called, stepping away. "I believe that is the nineteenth time I've beaten you. You've beaten me none. No surprise. Sparring isn't beneficial at present, but to prove just how weak you are. You should practice some strength building and technique."

"Alright," she mumbled out of the holes in her helmet.

"Let's try the wara."

The wara didn't even shake from her hit. She tried again with the same affect. "Keep at it," Saito commanded, "this will help build up your strength."

Half an hour later she was exhausted beyond belief. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath. Saito watched her with annoyance, "Get up. Keep going. I never said stop."

She struggled to her feet, her hands had calluses, and some had opened and were bleeding inside her kote. Saito had bandaged her hands earlier and she had asked him why it was necessity but he hadn't told her. Now she understood the need. She took a breath and hit the wara again, bracing her legs and arms as the shock of the impact snaked up her limps. She wasn't sure she could keep this up for another half hour. She took a breath, she had to damn it. She had to keep going. This was nothing, she could endure this.

* * *

Yaso entered and stared. Saito with a malicious little smirk on his face and hard eyes watched helpless Tokio hitting the straw pole. She came over with tea. "This is evil," she mumbled to him.

He looked at her with half lidded eyes, responding, "She wanted it."

"She didn't know what she was getting herself into."

"She does now," he volleyed reaching for a cup.

She moved it out of his reach, "Not for you, you heartless Miburo. It's for Kurasawa-san and the ladies. They came to see how Tokio-san is doing."

Saito glared at his wife, "Humph."

Tokio hit the wara again, yelling this time as she hit it. Saito watched in bemusement. Yaso glanced at her husband cautiously and found he was enjoying Tokio's discomfort. Heartless man.

"Goro-san how's the training?"

They all turned to see Kurasawa and the ladies enter. "Keep at it," Saito snapped when Tokio stopped. She hit it with a cry of anger. He smirked and while Yaso was distracted took a cup off her tray.

"It's horrible," his wife hissed, "Goro-san is a cruel taskmaster." Yaso looked back at Tokio, noticed a cup was missing, and glared at him as he downed the glass in one drink.

"Good tea," he complimented, putting the empty cup back.

She glared at him, "Practice is done, Tokio-san."

"I never said that," Saito said.

"You drank her tea so there," Yaso countered, "go rest, Tokio-san."

Tokio yanked off her helmet. Her face was sweaty, cheeks red from exertion, eyes bright, and lips parted as she panted. Her hair was in disarray, her ribbon hanging loosely with more than a few strands framing her face. She pushed the black hair from her face, smiling, "Thank you, Yaso-san."

Yaso caught her husband's sudden somber face, the sharp barely audible intake of breath, and the flare of something in his eyes. She turned away from Saito and Tokio, not wanting to see that look in her husband's eyes or the one who caused it. She knew Saito well enough now after all those nights with him to know the way his face looked when he was lusting.

In regards to love making Saito didn't usually care for it and a lot of nights he just went straight to sleep. It was the other rarer nights that she longed for and recalled now. When he was lusting he usually didn't say anything to her and started to undress. It was when he didn't put on his nemaki that she knew he wanted love. Saito wasn't really creative in bed, but the few things he did when they were alone didn't need to be. He was usually quick, little kissing or caressing, just quick and hot. She blushed at the bad direction her thoughts were taking. Better not to think about that right now.

Everyone left the spare room and went down into the living area. Ueda was talking with another tenet and besides just a curt nod ignored them. She served everyone tea. Tokio was busy changing out of her bogu. Saito left a few seconds into the conversation and she had the sneaking suspicious he was with Tokio.

Her anger flared, ever since that early morning she'd heard Saito and Tokio talking outside about their move to Ueda's, she'd noticed the regard her husband gave to Tokio. In front of everyone he was cool, but there was always a special look in his eyes when he looked at Tokio. It burned her up inside to see that look because he didn't give it to her, his wife, but another woman.

Saito came back inside, followed by a bruised Tokio. She was smiling while Saito was indifferent. She commented about something Haruna was saying, ignoring her feelings. Kurasawa and the other stayed for a while before they left and it was just her and Saito. He stood, "Since the time I usually train was taken up training Tokio-san, I'm going to go practice now. I'll be back later, go to sleep without me."

She was alone again, she frowned at her thighs, not that that wasn't a common thing since she'd married him. Saito was rarely around, either busy peddling sake, practicing his swordsmanship, or doing some other pursuits she was on her own. Ueda's other tenets were nice people and she often found herself babysitting their children.

When they lived in Kurasawa's household at least she'd known people her own age, here most of Ueda's residences were her senior by ten or fifteen years at least and the children were her juniors by more than twenty years. She was thirty-one, she needed friends…but she couldn't just go walking around outside, even in this new era. Besides she was afraid of what had happened to Tokio might happen to her. Ueda didn't help, he was always too busy to spent time with her. Stupid absent husband. Stupid house. Stupid Ueda. Stupid Tokio.

She stood, well she'd do something. She ended up spending the evening with an elderly couple and listening to the husband's war stories and the wife's blissful stories about her grandchildren. She needed to get pregnant, she thought as she walked back to her apartments, that would be the only way she'd get any social interaction, unless of course the child turned out to be a mini Saito. Then he or she would just stare or ignore her.

When she arrived back to their room it was empty, just as she'd expected. How long had she been gone? Almost three hours, maybe more? She pacing, wondering if she should go get Saito or just go to sleep. She decided she wasn't tired and went in search of her husband.

He was sitting seiza on tatami mats, his wakizashi placed in front of him. He reached slowly for his katana, right hand gripping the hilt while the other grabbed the sheath. He did some quick slashes and she was left taken aback by the speed and steadiness of his hand. He crouched down, feet parallel and body facing an invisible opponent. She noticed his hips were lower because of his stance. He did more slashing and carefully put his katana back. He sat down on his left foot, resting his right leg on his right side with his foot facing forward. That position looked painful. He drew his katana and the whizzing sound of his sword swinging though the hair made her jump this time.

He turned, saw her, and sheathed his sword. He sat back down seiza style, pulling out the katana and sheath. He held it still before him for a moment than set it down next to the wakizashi. He gave a saikeirei bow and stood, picking up his weapons. He did all these strange movements so calmly, so intensely and with such strength that she was left stunned.

He came over, chuckled at her look, and started to walk off. She hurried after him, following behind him a few steps. When they got to their rooms Saito immediately took to changing out of his black kimono and hakama. She watched him silently for a moment before starting to undress. She reached for her nemaki when she was completely bare, but Saito stopped her, "Not tonight, Yaso-san."

His mood was strange behavior indeed. He set his clothes in their usual spot against the wall, neatly folded. He came to the futon and lay down. He pulled her from her seiza position, chuckling at the confused look on her face. Her ears and cheeks went red when out of nowhere he kissed her. It was just a small kisses, but it was one of few that they'd shared.

She relaxed against him, wondering even more if his happy demeanor had anything to do with her. It had to have been something Tokio had done or said. She hated the fact that he only kissed her when Tokio had done something to amuse him enough. Why didn't he ever kiss her because of something she'd done? Her heart was aching again.

He was on top of her now, his eyes almost dark amber. Her breath hitched as one hand gently touched her thigh, having the strangest feeling that tonight wasn't going to be a quick one.

She awake when she felt light hit her eyelids. Why was there light? Usually she awake to darkness. She opened her eyes and found the shoji was half open. Why was the shoji open? Saito wouldn't be happy about that at all, especially when the shoji lead to where other neighbors could see into their room. Her eyes widened when she saw it. She sat up, too stunned by it to do anything but gawk. A yellow chrysanthemum lay in a plain white vase. She jumped when she heard his chuckle, "I thought a chrysanthemum was fitting for you, Yaso-san."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "Goro-san…"

"I'm going to Tokyo today. I'd figured I ought to give you a flower. I had one of the servants cut it so that it will last a little longer. I hope to be back before it dies."

"I like chrysanthemums, they're such pretty flowers."

He stood from his spot just in front of the chrysanthemum and walked to the shoji. He stood silently for a while, staring out into the little courtyard of grass between their house and the neighbors. She could see where he'd gotten the flower from, near the shoji of the other house. He turned away, shutting the shoji.

"Till we meet again." As he left through the shoji leading into the house only one thought occurred to her, not that she loved him for his considerate deed, but that he'd left the flower with her and not Tokio.


	11. Chapter 11: Tonami, 1873, Part 2

Tokio sat staring out the shoji. It was cold out, the weather unheeding of the fact that it was early April. Her eyes lingered on the path leading from Gonohe village to the rest of the world. Saito. Why wasn't he back yet? She lingered a moment longer than she knew she should have. She shut the shoji and rejoined the others. Yaso had come over three times in the pass two weeks since Saito's departure. This was her fourth visit.

Amane laughed, "So he gave you a chrysanthemum?"

"Yes," Yaso replied, "a pretty yellow."

How many times had Yaso brought up the chrysanthemum? First she'd mentioned the chrysanthemum to her and Satsuki on her first visit and then to her and Haruna on her second. On her third visit she'd missed telling Amane, so she'd come to tell her this time. It just so happened that every time Yaso was telling the story she was in the room. Not to mention that the time she'd come to see Haruna she'd come in and Yaso had started the tale almost as if she'd been waiting for her. She was getting sick of hearing about it and especially annoyed because Yaso seem so persistent in bringing it up around her.

She'd be damned if Yaso didn't know about her and Saito's feeling towards each other. Had Saito told her? Or had Yaso suddenly figured it out? It didn't make any sense. She held her tongue as the two talked. It was Kurasawa's sudden rushing into the room that halted the flow of conversation, "He's back Yaso-san."

She stood smiling, "Good, I will have to greet my darling husband."

"Oh and Tokio-san?"

"Yes, Kurasawa-sama?"

"Morinosuke-san came with Goro-san."

"Brother wrote that he'd thought he'd pay a visit, but I wasn't aware that he was in Tokyo."

Morinosuke smiled when he saw her, he was taller and looked more like their father than he had last. "Tokio-chan," he hugged her tightly, laughing, "So good to hold my onna." He chuckled at the tease and smiling she lead her brother to her room. She only gave Saito a small look, anymore and she was sure she'd have felt Yaso's scathing gaze.

"Yaso-san knows, Morinosuke-chan."

His eyes went wide, "Since when?"

"I'm not sure." She related the story of the flower to him.

"That's bad. Is that all she's done?"

"I recall some hinting comments now that I think about it, but I never took much stock in them. I just thought she was teasing me because of my respect towards Goro-san. One time she said to Haruna-san's disgust with her husband, 'Well if you and I don't want him I'm sure Tokio-san would take Goro-san,' or something like that."

"Dam…" he trailed off remembering his manners in front of women. "What should we do? Perhaps it is better if you come with me to Tokyo. I just settled in a nice ward there not so long ago. You'd like it. It doesn't need to be for long, but time away might pacify Yaso-san and convince her there is nothing going on."

She stared at her hands, "I don't know if I could bear so long away from him…"

He sighed, "It would save your reputation if Yaso-san has been telling anyone. Has anyone else made any comments?"

"Not that I know of. I think only you, me, Saito-san, and Yaso-san know." There was a knock at the shoji. "Come in."

Saito came in, looking at their faces he noticed the sober mood. He'd expected a much happier attitude from two siblings meeting again after almost two years. It didn't feel right. "Yaso-san knows about it…" Tokio said when he sat down.

He stared, "What?" The story was told again about the flower and Yaso's behavior of late. Saito looked unnerved, "I can't understand this. Why would she keep this private? It would benefit her to tell everyone and deface me and shame you. That way when she asked for a divorce she'd likely get it easily."

"Maybe she doesn't want a divorce?" Morinosuke said, he received two very confused looks. "I've seen it before. Women stay married to a man because they are afraid to leave him or something similar. I mean I'd be afraid my divorced husband might kill me, eh? Especially considering your old profession…"

"That would explain her hesitation, but I'm not sure that's her reasoning."

"What other reason, Goro-san?"

"Maybe she loves you," Tokio suggested, looking forlorn.

Saito pulled out a cigarette, "I'm not sure about that. I think her pride is what's suffering here, not her heart. I thinking she doesn't want divorce because of her samurai pride and her pride as a married woman in Gonohe. She gets more respect from the other woman because of her marriage to me and her married life isn't so bad. She'd probably dislike having suitors again and the change in her lifestyle. I can't say this for certain, but we all know Yaso-san is a proud silly woman so it would make sense. Still though something isn't adding up and I can't name what...hm. I will have to ask her."

"You can't do that, Saito-san!" Morinosuke yelled red faced.

"Sure I can, if she knows there is no reason why we can't talk about it."

"But…talking to your wife about the woman you love…won't that be awkward and hurt her feelings?"

"For her awkward perhaps but sad, Morinosuke-san? Bah."

"Tokyo would be best for now," They looked at her, staring off into space, "I'll leave when you go Morinosuke-san."

They all stared at her with astonishment, Saito snapped back to reality first, "Impossible. You're not going anywhere, much less Tokyo. You're staying here."

"I must leave. I've only complicated your life, Goro-san. We never should have let it get this far. It is shameful behavior for a husband to honor another woman more than his wife. It is best that I go to Tokyo."

"No. You―."

"Saito," they all turned to see Kurasawa standing in the open doorway. His eyes, usually so warm and gentle, were hard and unforgiving. This was the samurai in Kurasawa coming out. Saito involuntarily reached for his katana. He had to force his hand to let go as Kurasawa shut the shoji. "Saito let her go to Tokyo. Her place isn't beside you. To save her reputation before anyone else who doesn't need to know finds out. To protect not only her honor and your own, but your wife's feelings. Your foremost thoughts should be Yaso-san and it should have been that way from the beginning."

Saito didn't say anything, just lowered his eyes from Kurasawa's. Tokio took a breath, "When do you plan on leaving, Morinosuke-san?"

"Hm…oh…I figured I'd stay for a while, get to see you and the others…but as things are at the moment…sooner than later should be better."

"Wait until I've finished teaching Tokio-san some defensive moves. I'd rather not see her go without it to a city like Tokyo."

"That's agreeable," Kurasawa turned to leave.

"How long have you known?" Saito asked the man turned away from him.

"Too long," Kurasawa replied, leaving the room.

* * *

She hit the wara with all her might. In the last couple of months her skills had gradually gotten better and she could visibly see the improvement in her technique and the new found strength in her limps. She still didn't think she could beat a man, especially one skilled in swordsmanship, but she felt better knowing at the very least she might be able to hurt him.

It was July and she knew as well as Kurasawa and Morinosuke that Saito was just trying to get her to stay by teaching her. She knew Kurasawa's nerves were wearing thin and that every day spent here Morinosuke felt more out of place. She avoided Yaso as much as possible because it hurt to see the woman she knew she was causing sorrow to.

This was selfish of Saito and yet…she reflected, had the man ever done anything selfish in his life before this? Probably not. She couldn't blame him though. She felt like she was suffocating at the thought that she would be leaving here any day. Her heart always beat faster when she awake in the morning, wondering if this was her last day here or not. The thought that when she left she'd probably never see him again was devastating. She couldn't even bare thinking that, she told herself she had to optimistic, goodbye for now didn't mean goodbye for ever. She kept telling herself that, but a part of her doubted.

She hit the wara again, her arms not shaking as they once had. She controlled her breathing, pushing all thoughts of him and the situation from her mind. She hit the wara again, more calmer now, more centered and focused. If there was one thing she loved best about her training it had to be the calming affect of it.

Saito sat watching her, a cigarette to his lips. She was getting somewhere, he mused, and if she kept it up she might be able to rival a low level Shinsengumi member. How much longer could he delay her staying here? How much longer would Kurasawa and Morinosuke give him? He wasn't sure if he was ready to let her go just yet. He took a drag, watching her figure hit the wara.

"Tokio-san?"

"Yes, Goro-sensei," she always called him sensei when they were training.

"You will have to leave soon," he said, a bad taste in his mouth. What was wrong with this cigarette? He snubbed it out in the tray beside him, glaring at the half smoked cancer stick.

"Of course, just like always," she replied, "I'm sure dinner will be ready whe―."

"I wasn't talking about dinner," he couldn't make out the tension in her shoulders because of her bogu, but he was sure it was there. She didn't turn away from the wara to face him. He continued, "Tokyo will find itself better off with a pretty woman named after it there." She turned, yanking her helmet off and placing it under her arm. She sat down across from him. Her eyes wouldn't hold his. "I don't want you to leave. I remember once you quoted Saigyo to me. Having seen them long/I hold the flowers so dear/That when they scatter/I find it all the more sad/To bid them my last farewell."

She lowered her head, her black hair now where her face had been. He reached over and took her kote. She didn't respond to his touch, though he was sure her fingers were stiff under the glove.

"Tokio-san, will you miss me?" She didn't reply, just lowered her head more. "I can't read your mind entirely… I want to know. I think you will, but I want to hear you say so."

"It isn't right neither to love you nor to miss you."

He clutched her hand harder, glaring. "I remember a conversation we had about emotions. You said there was a time and place to show them. Isn't now a decent time, my precious Tokio-san? When we are saying goodbye?"

Her head shot up and her eyes widened, "We're not saying goodbye."

"I am. You're leaving tomorrow for Tokyo. I received a letter from an old friend who I can not refuse to go see. I won't be seeing you off tomorrow." Her face went pale and her eyes got misty. He watched her mouth move wordlessly as if none of this was making sense. "We must say goodbye, Tokio-san."

"I don't want to."

"Don't start acting reluctant. In front of the others you're so calm and cool about leaving, but in front of me you nearly break down into tears. Such a strange change, Tokio-san."

"I was hoping we still had time. As long as I knew it wasn't tomorrow…as long as I knew… Will I ever see you again, Hajime?"

He reached over and pulled her into his arms. It was the first physical contact between them besides holding hands. She cried, wondering if he was holding her to comfort her or himself more. She clutched at his kimono, her body shaking. His hands held her by the top of her bogu. "This is an improper farewell," she whispered against him, gaining some semblance of control. "I should change…"

"Don't. If I hold your soft feminine body against me and not this shell I might refuse to let you leave. I might even fancy kidnapping you and taking you to my secret Wolf den. Would that be appealing?"

She laughed, he rarely joked and to see him joking was comforting. She put her head against his chest, feeling the strong wall of muscle and the soft silk of his clothes. One hand touched her head softly, a flutter of fingers dipping through her hair. She sighed, knowing she'd have to pull away any second. His hold tightened as she made to move away, she pushed his hands off, smiling sweetly. She saw not a spark of lust as was sometimes apparent, but a fondness and understanding. He let her get up.

"I've been selfish…it feels strange thinking that. I should have let you go before. Forgive me for that."

"I wasn't the one who minded so much. Be good to Yaso-san, Hajime. She needs you to love her and treat her right."

"I've tried to be a good husband to her, but…but it feels hopeless knowing I'll never love her as I do you." To think that Hajime Saito of the Shinsengumi was talking so freely of his emotions. It didn't feel right and yet it felt wonderful.

He stood also, looking into her eyes, knowing this was the last time he'd ever see her brown orbs. She smiled, "In my heart I'll always remember my Lone Wolf of Mibu," she smiled, turned away, and left the room to change.

"And I'll always remember my flower of Aizu," he almost said, but didn't. Instead he shrugged, tightened the wakizashi and katana on his waist, and left. He had someone to kill tonight and he didn't want to think of a pretty flower while he was doing it.


	12. Chapter 12: Tokyo, 1873, Part 1

**Tokyo, Japan, 1873/1874**

Tokyo. She'd forgotten how big the city was. She was stunned by how many people she saw as the carriage passed through the streets. Morinosuke was silently glancing out the right side. He smiled, "I forgot just how much I love Tokyo. When I'm away its interesting seeing Japan, but I always find I've missed Tokyo."

She smiled, glancing out the window. The place Morinosuke was staying at was a nice small tenet house. She walked inside with him, "There isn't much room. There's only one bedroom."

"I'll sleep in the living room, I don't mind, brother."

He smiled and went into his bedroom. She set about arranging her things, setting up a neat pile of her kimono, fans, and other womanly things in a corner of the living area. Morinosuke came back in and smiling sheepishly he set two pairs of hakama and kimono down before her. "Can you repair these? I asked a neighbor's wife to but she has enough on her hands with her five children…"

"Of course, it is the least I can do for you letting me stay. Also I should clean this place up, when was the last time this place had a good scrub down?"

He smirked, "Onna you're wonderful! Thank you, I knew letting you live with me would be a good idea. Anyway I promised Hiroshi-san I'd go to his place."

He made to leave, paused, placed some coins in her hand and said. "See you at dinner?"

"Do you want soba?"

He smirked, "I can't afford anything else."

She had to ask a neighbor for cleaning instruments as her brother didn't seem to have any. She rolled her futon and the zabuton mats up and dumped then in the storage area. She pushed close the two fusuma dividing the larger room into three separate areas.

Morinosuke's bedroom was a mess. Chopsticks, old food, newspapers, and some disregarded kimonos and fundoshi were lying around. She started picking up his kimonos, when had he gotten this messy? She'd always remembered her brother as a clean person, but perhaps that was just because their mother had made sure he kept his room neat. She would have to wash his clothing later. She put the clothing into a pile on the other side of the room.

Right now she needed to tackle the obstacle that was his room. Her sword training lessons had helped her relax and burn some restlessness and than all that time in that carriage had done nothing for her physical restlessness. Without her lessons she felt all wound up and her brain without even the stimulation of work was going back to the one thing she didn't want to think about.

She picked up the chopsticks, deciding to throw them away instead of keeping them for further use. She doubted they were very sanitary. She'd buy some cheap ones with the money Morinosuke had given her. She collected the snippets of newspaper; some dated from last week while others were months ago. Her brother really had no sense for what to keep or not. Instead of throwing it away like she wanted to she kept them. Morinosuke might have kept them for a reason, if not he could toss them once he returned.

She was revolted by the food, some old tofu and soba beside the futon, which she threw away quickly. She wondered about her brother's eating habits since she'd been away from him. Did all he eat was the inexpensive soba and tofu? She'd have to buy him some more sustaining food, even something like daikon (radishes), gobo (burdocks), and potatoes would be beneficial.

She assessed the damage to the kimono and hakama. More than one hole in the blue kimono and a large rip along the side of the brown kimono. The hakama seemed fine at first glance, until she noticed the seaming on the side of the gray pair about to burst. The green hakama had a hole in the groin area; it almost looked like he'd ripped it while bending down. She laughed at the thought of Morinosuke's beat red face if that had indeed been the case.

First though she needed to go into Tokyo to get some food, chopsticks, and some sewing equipment. Morinosuke had given her more money then was necessity to buy the food, likely because he knew she'd need it. The walk was strange to her, not use to so many people.

She noticed more than once some yakuza and was grateful for the fact that the yakuza in Gonohe had all been arrested. It eased her frantic mind a little, Ichiro was not going to come grab her in a darkened alley way, nevertheless she avoided any areas that looked unsavory. There were still other evil men. She was also grateful that Morinosuke had brought her a kaiken just before their arrival. It eased her nerves a little more knowing she had a weapon and her training. At least she might be able to take out an eye or something if she was lucky.

A lot of Japanese men and woman wore western style clothing which surprised her. She wasn't use to it, knowing people who only wore kimono as daily wear. Of course there was nearly double the number wearing traditional kimono. She was slightly relieved to see that most people referred kimono, haori, and hakama.

Times were changing, she mused, and styles would undoubtedly change too. So why did she have trouble with the change? Because she wanted everything to remain the same as it had been…she wanted her days in Aizu back. The days when she'd been a lady-in-waiting and she'd sat with Teruhime as the other woman read, talked, or wrote haiku. She missed Katamori's visits to his sister, his pleasant smile, gentle benevolence, and his generosity with her sometimes frank questions about the war when she was a woman who didn't need to know such things. The bittersweet days when she received a letter from her ailing mother about her health and Morinosuke's progressing education. She wanted her life back, the life where her greatest worry had been if the war might reach them and her fear for the safety of Aizu troops and families.

That life was gone and this new life, this harder life was before her… This life was worse, she reflected, stopping to buy some soba and chopsticks, it was much worse because back than there had been no Hajime Saito, no constant ache in her heart, no nagging worry about his safety, or about his whereabouts. No this was worse because instead of her life revolving around the Aizu clan, it revolved around one man and if something ever happened to that one man life would no longer be worth living.

She realizes just how late it was and she hadn't picked up any sewing things. It took her a while to find a place that sold sewing needles and such. She didn't know where anything was. Tomorrow she'd have Morinosuke show her around town, instead of spending nearly three hours trying to find a few items.

She barely found her way back to Morinosuke's, thankful that she'd memorized the location on her way out. She found Morinosuke and another man talking on the zabuton mats she'd put away. She glared, "Morinosuke-chan, I am not making dinner tonight. I just walked around for three hours trying to find this things," she threw them down with a huff, "so you are cooking, you hear me?"

He laughed, "Alright, Tokio-san, it's the least I can do. You remember Hiroshi-san right?"

She stared at the man she recognized all too well. Okura Yamakawa. "Hiroshi-sama?"

"I've changed my name, Takagi-san."

"Oh," it was strange thinking about the man before her and the one who'd been refused. He looked much older, but that was a good thing because he'd been almost boyish before despite his age. He was smiling, looking gentler than she remembered. The look he gave her was not that awkward fondness but a more reversed benevolence. She smiled willingly back, Okura's name change seemed appropriate for the apparent change in him.

"Would you mind making tea, I've got some things I wish to discuss with Morinosuke-san?" He'd asked with a polite smile and she thought that the old Okura wouldn't have been so kind as to even ask.

She made the tea willingly as Hiroshi and Morinosuke began dinner preparations. She wasn't use to seeing men cook and laughed when Morinosuke, apparently an excellent food preparer after having lived alone for so long, yelled at Hiroshi for cutting the potatoes wrong and showed him how. Good at cooking maybe, but throwing it away. No way.

She laughed as the two continued bickering. Letting the tea simmer she started stitching Morinosuke's kimono. Perhaps life here wouldn't be so bad as long as she wasn't given time to think about Hajime Saito.

* * *

She counted the months in her head of how long she'd been away from Tonami. August, September, October, November. It was the fifteen of November. Morinosuke laughed as they walked. Hiroshi, a neighbor's oldest daughter named Maeko, and Genji, Maeko's five year old brother walked just behind them. She saw the look Hiroshi was giving Maeko and knew this wasn't the brief fleeting feelings he'd felt for her, but actual love. She was happy for him.

Genji bumped into her sleeve, laughing as he grabbed her hand. He was a shy well mannered boy, she'd quickly realized when she'd first met him. He was adorable when he smiled and had easily warmed up to her. She gave his little hand a squeeze, smiling.

She'd never liked kids, but Genji was such a good boy that she couldn't dislike him. A part of her wondered what her own children would have been like, but that was fruitless thinking, considering Saito was with Yaso. She reflected upon just how lucky she was that Ichiro and his yakuza underlings hadn't gotten her with child, she'd heard sob stories about other girls that weren't so lucky.

The seven-five-three festival would be a good one, she mused. Parents usually brought their five or three year old boys and seven or three year old girls to the shrines nearby and prayed for their safety and health. Genji's parents had been working so Maeko had said she would do it. Hiroshi had gotten her and Morinosuke to come along, more or less to watch Genji so he and Maeko could talk. She rolled her eyes, young love…hm…it made her feel sad that she'd never be with her love…better to focus on something else.

Genji was bopping up and down on her sleeve, talking excitedly about the candy he'd get after the festival and his first pair of hakama he was wearing. She touched his head gently, smiling at his beaming face. He was so cute. The shrine was busy, not surprising at all. A lot of kids were whining or crying and only a small few were sleeping peacefully in their parents arms. She let Maeko take her brother and watched them walk away. She wanted a good child like Genji. She looked down, grasping her hands inside her kimono. It was a useless sentiment.

* * *

She awake, feeling cold. Had Morinosuke left a shoji open? She sat up, rubbing her legs together under the covers. Her eyes landed on the shoji, open slightly. She couldn't hear Morinosuke's snoring so he must have left. She slid her nemaki up her shoulders, absently reaching for her brocade pouch where her kaiken was in. Why did she feel like she was being watched? She went to the shoji, peeking out. No one was in sight.

She relaxed and walked out. The air was chilling to the bones. December was not her favorite month. She turned to go back inside when a gust of wind hit her face. Her hair blew into her face and she pushed it away from her mouth in frustration. Glancing around, she felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle. She shrugged it off and went back inside.


	13. Chapter 13: Tokyo, 1873, Part 2

I forgot we're in Tokyo not Tonami anymore, lol. Unless you think about Saito and the others still there, eh...so I changed it.

* * *

The flowers were lovely and she was glad that the woman had let her join their flower arranging. Both women were neighbors and it had been at Morinosuke's insistence that she befriend them. She wondered if her brother worried about her. She had lost some weight since arriving in Tokyo, which was surprising as Tokyo sold better food and in Tonami malnutrition was a common occurrence. She just didn't feel like eating a lot and Morinosuke had a tight budge as it was without her needing to overindulge herself.

She picked up a dark yellow flower. Her hand stopped midair, just staring at the bizarre color. She thought how close a shade of amber this flower was to his eyes. She sighed, setting the flower down. She wouldn't use that one in this arrangement. She used a bright blue flower in her arrangement, adding a long stalk of and a short one. She'd never been very successful at making beautiful arrangements.

"Use more leaves, Tokio-san," one of the women handed her some pretty green leaves. She placed them around the end, carefully concealing the stalks ends.

Morinosuke came in, "How's it going?"

"Not well, I'm just not good at Ikebana."

"Yours is…pretty," Morinosuke said sheepishly, in his mind she knew even Morinosuke was thinking hers was ugly.

She stood, picked up her ikebana, "It'll scare away our guests. Is Hiroshi-sama and Maeko-san coming over?"

He nodded his head, "They came with me."

As she was leaving she picked up the flower that reminded her of Saito and tugged it secretly into her sleeve.

* * *

Later that night she lay awake, twisting the pretty flower in her hand, her fingertips occasionally grazing the petals. What had the other woman called it? Hamanasu? Shore pear. The name was appropriate because the pedals were the shape of pears. Or hearts, she thought dryly. She closed her eyes, starting to drift, she fell asleep thinking that she loved amber orbs, the flower still half grasped in her hand.

Morinosuke found his sister sleeping peacefully, a flower perched in her hand. He frowned, noting the color and shape of the pedals when he knelt down to take it. He stopped, just staring at her face. His sister didn't deserve this pain, Tokio was a good woman and that stupid Wolf of Mibu didn't give a damn. He raised his fist in aggravation and forcefully brought it down, stopping himself from slamming it into the tatami mat at the last second. He controlled his breathing, aware that he was nearly panting.

He didn't want to wake her. She was such a gentle, good considerate sister, he'd feel bad for waking her up earlier than was necessity, and the little bit of sleep she got was precious to her. He knew the nights weren't easy on her and that she constantly kept herself busy during the day as her means of distraction. Distraction from her thoughts of a stupid Wolf who probably didn't even think of her, blissfully married to a beautiful wife. Why would he think of Tokio, nothing more than semi-pretty and someone who could ruin his reputation if he wasn't careful? Tokio… She was too kind, too gentle, and too good a person that it seemed impossible she could possibly love a stoical, cold hearted merciless Wolf of Mibu.

Yet she did, Morinosuke thought, his sister who did everything for everyone else and nothing for herself… Heck she was even nice enough to watch Genji for people she didn't know and had watched the boy nearly every Thursday because his parents and Maeko worked. Tokio was just that sort of person who cared about others, whether or not she knew them. So he couldn't understand why she'd fallen in love with the one person who cared for no one. Was it because no one cared for Saito? Was that her reasoning? No, her feelings were more binding than that.

He didn't see what Tokio saw in Saito, all he'd seen was a Wolf who saw in black and white and who remorselessly killed what he considered evil. Saito didn't think about the family of the one's he'd killed. He didn't even consider the people who'd be hurt. His reasons for killing were more understandable than killing for killing's sake, or for ideology differences, but it was still killing, still taking a human life and cutting that life short…

Did Tokio not consider that when she choose to love him? Of course she had, Morinosuke thought, it was likely that thought which made her regret loving Saito a little. She did regret that the man she loved was a killer right? Or did she just ignore that side of him? Forget it existed and forget about the people he hurt… Morinosuke wasn't sure what her take was on that side of him and knew that he couldn't bring himself to ask her, if only because it would mean saying the one name they'd never said since then… He couldn't bear being the one who caused that somber expression, that clutching of her hands, that little slump to her shoulders.

She didn't show her feelings easily, Tokio was a strong sort, but he knew she felt that pain of loss more acutely than she'd felt their mother or father's deaths. Or their two year old sister Tami who'd died young. No… He wrestled with himself, rising from his spot on the floor, his sister loved Saito more than their family and Morinosuke couldn't understand that. How could she love him so much? How…

Was it the love their mother and father had shared? He couldn't say for sure, but if it was anything less Tokio's pain would pass and she'd eventually move on and be herself again. If it was that same love their mother had harbored until her dying day for their father, Morinosuke would try to understand, he really would. He'd only ever felt infatuations and once he'd felt a small inkling of the love his mother and father had shared, and what seemed to be the love his sister had for Hajime Saito, but he was certain one day he'd know that kind of true unfading love. He really hoped Tokio didn't love Saito that way, it would be so much easier on her and him…but if it was…hm… Damn that stupid Wolf…

* * *

A certain amber eyed Wolf sneezed thrice, pressing a hand to his face.

"That means someone is talking bad about you, Goro-kun," said the other occupant at the table. Saito glared at Matsudaira Katamori. Katamori smiled. He glared harder, hoping to see that smile falter, even just a little… He waited… No response. Stupid Katamori. Stupid him for having come. He should have stayed home where it was cozy and enjoyed some hot tea.

"Would you like sake or tea, Goro-kun?"

"Goro-san, Katamori-sama. I don't drink sake, not since the fighting ended. I'll take some green tea."

Katamori ordered the tea with the waitress who smiled fondly back. Katamori had that nature, he made you feel so at home with him. Not like a father or brother or lover…more spirituality attune than that. More like he was your conscience. That was part of the reason Saito didn't like Katamori much. The guy unnerved him a little. Not that he felt any remorse for the people he killed, but whereas most people guessed he did Katamori knew he didn't and instead of judging him about it he calmly accepted it. Katamori was one puzzle even the observant meticulous Hajime Saito couldn't completely understand.

"How have you been?" Katamori knew he wasn't one for small talk and this question was not beckoning any, it was a completely different question.

"Well enough, Katamori-sama, a few annoying attempts, but they were nixed quickly. You?"

"No assassination attempts since 1869 thankfully." The waitress back with the tea heard Katamori's reply, staring wide eyed. The former daimyo of Aizu didn't know what tact meant. He touched her hand softly as she set the tea down, smiling, "Just talk." Her nerves eased so easily. Saito's glare usually did the trick in silencing people with fear, but Katamori was the opposite and had a knack for calming people that he found almost admirable. It was much easier to scare people into silence than it was to calm them, though calm people were probably more trusting…he kept that in mind. Don't trust Katamori's gentle character, he could turn out wanting something more than a little chat.

Katamori gave him a flashing smile, "I heard you're married?"

"Not entirely happily," he answered the implied question asking about his marriage meant with Katamori.

Matsudaira looked bemused, "A shame…" Saito could hear the true sincerity in the reply, where most people just faked it and said it out of fear of him. Katamori was the one man who understood Saito's nature. It didn't surprise him at all, Katamori was the one who'd shaped him after all. All those years ago it was Katamori who'd first said those three little words.

"_Hajime Yamaguchi-kun?" _

"_I'd prefer -san like everyone else," he had been annoyed at being called -kun because he was nineteen after all._

_Katamori had laughed, "I call everyone -kun, do not think I'll give you preference."_

"_Hm."_

"_Hm? How old are you, Hajime-kun?"_

"_Old enough to kill…" His voice had been icy and his look even more freezing._

_Katamori hadn't even flinched; he just kept that stupid grin on his face. "And it was for killing that you are here, eh? A hatamoto of the Shogunate was your victim. A serious transgression, mind you."_

"_It doesn't matter."_

"_Why?_

"_What?_

"_Why did you kill him?"_

_It was the first time anyone had asked him that. His elder brother Hiroaki and sister Katsu had been more outraged about the murder than the reasons for it and had begged their father to send him away for their safety. His father had shipped him off to Kyoto from Edo and had given him a recommendation with a__ Katsumi Yoshida__. Once he was done here he'd go meet the man and hopefully find some employment._

"_There was more than one reason for my actions."_

"_I'm curious, Yamaguchi-kun. Please clarify."_

"_Reason one was that the man had done some illegal drug selling. We went to the same dojo and I caught him in the act of selling opium. He was outraged when I scared off the young man he was selling it to and ever after we were enemies so to speak. I don't tolerate those who sell such things."_

"_You said more than one reason," Katamori looked even more bemused than he had at the beginning._

"_Dishonor. The man did not like that my father Yusuke Yamaguchi had brought __Gokenin. The man didn't consider my father to be in the same rank as him. It was enough to endure his insults at me, but such weak men, those who stoop to drug selling, should not even consider themselves samurai."_

_Katamori was silent, frowning at the young man before him. "So which feeling was stronger in you? The feeling for revenge at the slight or the opium selling?"_

_There was silence as the man looked into his tea. Though he was not aware of it, his answer would decide his fate to Katamori. If he chose the wrong one he would turn down the path of a man who killed for such inconsequential things as slights and name calling. If he chose the right one Katamori had a place for this man. Katamori who'd always been good at reading men knew even though most of them would literally say the second they meant the first more vehemently. Most men chose the first evil, an easier way to live perhaps, but the second one was one a real Bushido samurai should aspire for. _

"_The constant ill wished words were disgraceful behavior for a Bushido following samurai, but…I wouldn't have killed him merely for that. Personal revenge is inconsequential, particularly killing for words that are fictitious. My main reason for killing him was neither the opium selling, though that was a major deciding faction, nor the slights, but his behavior. His behavior was not worthy of the strict code of Bushido a man must uphold, so I ended his pitiful existence and saved the Bushido code before that man had time to smear it anymore."  
_

_Katamori's eyes went wide with amusement. This man was beyond honorable. He smiled, he had a good place for this young man. He'd talk to Isami Kondo about this Hajime Yamaguchi and see if he could get this man enrolled in the __Shieikan__ when he returned from Edo._

"_So you follow Aku Soku Zan?"_

_He saw the twitch of the man's lips at that, "Slay evil immediately?"_

"_Yes," Katamori replied, smiling… and that was how Hajime Saito found a name for his killing._

"Do you still follow Aku Soku Zan?"

"Of course."

"Hm."

"Hm what?"

"Nothing." Katamori smiled, finishing off his tea. "I think our meeting is over, Goro-kun. I've got other people to see. I'll see you on the twenty, same place and time," he stood and left. Saito looked into his half empty cup, frowning. Had he really come to Tokyo just to have such a wasted meeting with Katamori? He could have stayed home…

Why the twenty and why here again? Stupid Katamori. He finished his tea and realized Katamori hadn't paid for his. He'd be damned if that cheapskate hadn't just taken off. The waitress came over and started to clean up. He glared at her, "By any chance did he pay in advance?"

"Oh…yes, he paid for them when he got here and told me to keep them warm for when you arrived." Saito snorted, why had Katamori even asked if he wanted tea when he'd ordered it in advance. He glared at the man's empty seat, noticing the scared expression on the waitress' face only for a moment. That arrogant prick. Did he think if he had a little sake he'd kill him for real and not just in his mind? Eh...Smart Katamori but the man was still annoying. There was no way he'd be meeting him on the twenty, to hell with that.


	14. Chapter 14: Tokyo, 1873, Part 3

"Goro-kun." He didn't reply, sipping his tea. "Goro-kun… Goro-kun?"

"You relish too much in the fact that you gave me that name, Katamori-sama."

Katamori chuckled, "Why didn't you just answer?"

"I was busy pondering on why I came… Why these meetings anyway? I should return to Tonami soon. It's already the twenty-eighth." They'd had three meetings at this same tea house, their first one on the fifteen, their second on the twentieth, and now this one. Saito was starting to wonder what this was all about.

"Have you finished your work for Toshimichi Okubo-kun?"

He frowned, "It shouldn't surprise me that you know that. How did you hear about my deal with Toshimichi-san?"

"Not many know about it, I assure you, only myself, Okubo-kun, and you."

"Okubo-san was an imperialist; you were the daimyo of Aizu and sided with the shogunate, so how can you bear to be in the same room as him?"

Katamori chuckled, "Don't you know I don't hold grudges, Fujita-kun?"

He sipped his tea, "I see. You forgave the new government even before they had formed. You're too generous, Katamori-sama."

"You're more generous than I. You work for the people you fought while I merely acknowledge that we lost and respect them for their victory. You on the other hand have sided with them so you can continue with Aku Soku Zan."

"Even though they beat us, so long as they do not become corrupt, I will spare their lives. Personal grudges are wasteful of human life."

"I agree that revenge wastes lives and tarnishes the soul of the killer." For a second Saito remembered a flower having said similar words about killing tarnishing the soul. He pushed her away from his mind.

"You can't say we're merely here to talk about the past? Why have you bothered seeing me while I'm here?"

"Teru-chan."

"Oh." What the hell could Katamori's adopted sister want with him? He'd only met her once or twice if he remembered correctly and she'd left only a lasting impression of an elegant beautiful woman. Nothing more sustainable than that. He could hardly recall if she was indeed beautiful, he only remembered a fleeting imagine of her. "I don't remember her well," he said at last.

"Not surprising, you only met her once in Aizuwakamatsu, when I showed her the Shinsengumi troops stationed there. She was quiet impressed. She liked the ideals the Shinsengumi stood for. Actually that's the reason she wants to meet you. She wants to know what a Shinsengumi captain is like, particularly since you're a rare creature," he chuckled.

"Why can't you just ask Shinpachi Nagakura-san?"

"Because Nagakura-san doesn't reside in Tokyo." He turned, seeing the speaker was a small woman with dark hair and green eyes. He narrowed his eyes at her. Teruhime it seemed had been listening to the conversation a table over. He had just thought the woman leaning a little too close to where they were sitting was a nosy hen and had taken no further notice of her. It served him right to be bested occasionally, it kept his ego down, it wouldn't happen again though.

Turning to face the lady, he smiled viciously, "Why so curious about a Wolf of Mibu? Haven't you heard we eat little sticks like you as side dishes to our main meal?" He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Katamori. The man smiled sheepishly, taking a drink of tea.

She was unfazed by his words and came to sit beside her brother. "You're not so intimidating, Goro-san," she replied, "You're nothing more than a sheep in wolves clothing."

Katamori nudged her, "I wouldn't be so kind to him, he'll take a liking to you, Teru-chan, and you'll find at night that amber eyes are watching…"

Saito snorted, "I've better things to do than watch ugly woman sleep."

Teru's eye switched, "Ugly?"

"Oh? Is the ugly lady talking?" He sipped his tea nonchalantly. Now they were even. Women were so easy to goal, particularly vane ones.

"Go commit seppuku, dog!"

Katamori looked a little nervous, Saito noted with bemusement, but it was good naturedly so. Katamori knew Saito would never hurt his innocent sister. Not unless she secretly ran a drug or prostitution operation. Actually that might have some ground…hm…

He chuckled at the thought that the former daimyo of Aizu's sister was running a prostitution ring. Jeez… His thoughts were straying lately. Teru took offense at his laughing at her comment, calling him some more unsavory names. She was giving herself a bad first impression, but he had to admit she'd proven to be quite sneaky to avoid his noticing her for what she was. He had come to be very good at locating spies during the Shinsengumi days and could still easily tell when people were faking their expressions or feelings.

"Enough onna," Katamori said teasingly, seeing the flush in her cheeks under her makeup.

"Humph," she crossed her arms, giving Saito a hard look.

"If I'd wanted to be insulted I'd have gone to a tavern full of drunkards," he smirked stiffly. "Not gone out to tea with Katamori-sama and…" he was watching her face with a sardonic look as he said, "his bitch of a sister."

She exploded at him. She lunged from her seat, but Katamori held her back by her obi. Saito chuckled, lifting one hand he flicked her nose with the tip of his finger. She glared harder, yelling something about being a warrior in her own right and if Katamori didn't let her teach this bastard a lesson she was never going to see him again. All the other costumers in the tea house watched the raving woman on the table and the silent, arm crossed daisho wearing man.

"Sit onna," Katamori finally managed to get Teru sitting. Of course she deftly tried to kick him under the table, resulting in his moving his leg at the last minute and her foot hitting the bench. She gave a cry of annoyance, more than pain, and stood abruptly. Katamori looked worried. "What time is it?"

Katamori reached into his pocket, pulling out a new fashioned western watch, "12:45 pm." She picked up her cold tea, downed it, and started towards the shoji. "Where are you going, Teru-chan?"

"I said I'd meet an old lady-in-waiting of mine today at 1 o'clock. I can't be late. I haven't seen her in years. I'm so happy she's moved to Tokyo! Come on, you're coming with!"

Katamori stood, straightening his crumbled haori, looking pleased. "You shouldn't hassle poor Teru-chan, Goro-kun. She's a sensitive person."

"Most women are."

"Want to accompany us?"

"Would the sensitive stubbornly annoying woman want the person who'd called her a―."

"Don't speak foully. It's unbecoming. Come with, she likes you if she's already threatened violence."

He snorted, "Oh? Is your sister as crazy as you are?" He saw her waiting impatiently outside the tea house. He followed Katamori out, making sure his daisho were securely at his left side. One never knew when assailants might appear, particularly in the company of a once so important man.

He didn't really believe Katamori when he said he'd had no assassination attempts since 69. Nice guy side apart, the Meiji government would still want you dead if they feared you might start a rebellion. After all Okubo had tried to kill him with the two handed wielder and the other five before him.

The one who'd tried to kill him because of Tani Sanjuro had also been hired by Okubo. Okubo had clarified that the man had been instructed to make it look like he wanted revenge, not that he'd been a hired hitokiri. So Okubo had told him to use the name Tani Sanjuro as his revenge motif.

He'd lied when he'd told the man he didn't know Sanjuro, but he hadn't killed the captain of the seventh unit of the Shinsengumi. He'd admit to killing Takeda Kanryuusai, the fifth captain of the Shinsengumi because he had. Takeda had been planning on deserting to join Kashitaro Ito's group after they had left the Shinsengumi and desertion was against the code of the Shinsengumi. So he'd killed the man one night after drinking, he'd even enjoy killing him because he'd never liked Takeda's weak character and lax morals. He was no Bushido samurai that much was certain.

He walked slowly after Katamori and Teru. The woman was hurrying along, her geta scandals loud to his ears. They passed by single men and women and small shopping groups, children running around in bright kimono, and married couples enjoying the day. Vendors hassled them as they walked by their fruit stands and noodle stalls. He figured the reason for their hassling was because of the way both of the Matsudaira's were dressed, he'd worn only simple clothing and usually people didn't address him because of his frightening appearance and daisho. He saw no suspicious figures, but he kept himself ready just in case some one he didn't suspect came at him or his companions.

He saw her well before short Teru pointed her out. She was wearing a flower patterned kimono, the flowers were blue and the background was white. Her obi and hair ribbons were the same color as the flowers. She wore the practical zori scandals over the geta, though he thought geta gave her a touch of elegance. Not that she didn't look the picture of a single respectable woman, it was more that geta made her closer to his height and meant that was one less person he had to strain his neck to look down at. She was taller than Teru and Katamori he noticed as they approached Tokio.

She bowed stiffly to them. He watched her silently, he hadn't expected Teru's former lady-in-waiting to be her. He'd hoped to avoid her while he was Tokyo because he didn't want to bring scandal to her name if anyone thought he'd visited her. But that was out the window now. He watched her expression. She was smiling and when her eyes met his he saw the spark of pleasant surprise in them. So she was happy to see him… She must have moved on, he calculated, why else would she be happy to see him? If she still cared she would have looked sadder at their situation, not happy.

He frowned, spotting Morinosuke obliviously buying some noodles from a vendor. He turned around and when their eyes locked the boy almost dropped the noodles. He caught them at the last minute and came waltzing over.

Teru was getting them invited to her place. Some one really needed to choke that Matsudaira woman to death...or she could just go commit jigai and he'd gladly be a witness. Morinosuke was stumbling over his bows and stuttering his polite words when he realized that he was talking to Matsudaira Katamori and Teruhime. He sighed, he needed to make sure Morinosuke committed seppuku too and he'd enjoy being second to that ritual suicide.


	15. Chapter 15: Tokyo, 1873, Part 4

So I totally screwed up and didn't add this chapter, shit... it was suppose to come after Saito meets Tokio again and is a critical part of the story, so it can't be disregarded. I don't know how I missed this, I just sort of skipped over it when adding the chapters. Wow, anyway so all the chapters are officially moved from Tokyo, 1873, Part 4 is now Part 5, etc. Sorry for not checking.

* * *

It wasn't long before he was sitting in Morinosuke's place, across from the Takagi siblings with Teru and Katamori beside him. He sipped his tea, damn…cheap tea…he hated cheap people. Couldn't they even offer good tea for guests? He sighed, he wasn't in the mood for talking or even just setting silently drinking tea. He felt more like practicing his sword techniques. Particularly on annoying Morinosuke, who was blabbing on about trivial things. Teru was smiling, Katamori was nodding, and Tokio was sitting passively. How annoying. He wanted to leave. Could he excuse himself? Hm…

There was a knock at the shoji and Yamakawa Okura entered. His eyes narrowed, what was he doing here? Why that was…oh…Tokio had moved on, he thought, and with that moronic Okura.

He sipped his tea, looking as impassive as ever. She wondered what was going on in Hajime Saito's mind. Was he as happy to see her as she was to see him? She couldn't tell, usually he smirked when he was happy, but she hadn't caught that little lip switch yet so she was merely waiting for it.

She didn't talk, just watching him across from her, her eyes intent on his face. Okura sat down beside her and she briefly pulled her eyes away from her Wolf and greeted him. She took a drink of her tea. Morinosuke must have brought the tea because there was no way she would have picked out tea that tasted so much like dung. To give Teruhime and Katamori such god awful tea felt almost shameful. Next time she was buying the tea. Okura nearly choked on his tea, grimacing as he set it down, he pretended it had gone down the wrong pipe when Morinosuke looked at him in questioningly.

No one else seemed inclined besides Morinosuke to drink it. "Nobody likes it? I love it," he said cheerfully. She saw the almost heated gaze Morinosuke briefly gave Saito. She looked at her hands, stupid Morinosuke, why didn't he just stop glaring at Saito every few minutes. It was disrespectful behavior for a host.

Teruhime cleared her throat, clearing away the tension with her noise, "So I'm dying."

Katamori, having risked poison by the bad tea, choked, nearly spilling the cup in his hands. He set the cup down carefully, examined his haori for dampness. He looked perplexed at his sister when he was sure he hadn't spilled any tea. "Don't be dramatic, Teruhime-chan."

"I'm not for once, Katamori-chan. I'm sick." She smiled weakly, "I just wanted to say goodbye to my dearest friend before I…kick the bucket."

"Kick the bucket," Saito's monotonous words made them look at him with surprise. "A woman like you will only die in our daydreams."

Teru glared, "You're an insensitive prick, Wolf boy! I'm completely serious here and you go and insult me!"

"Wolf boy?" Saito glanced at her with a malicious look, "Don't ever call me that again."

"Oh yeah?"

"Teru―." Katamori was cut off, trying hopelessly to diffuse the situation.

"Yes," Saito muttered, glancing at her with a sharp look.

"Wolf―."

"Teru, don't do it."

"Boy! Wolf boy! Wolf boy!" She started coughing suddenly, clutching at her kimono with one hand and the other at her mouth.

Katamori knelt quickly by her, looking concerned. "You really are sick," he said as he pulled out a handkerchief. She coughed into it, spiting out mostly saliva with a little amount of blood.

Okita had coughed like that in the beginning of his disease. "Tuberculosis?"

"Wolf boy knows his diseases," Teru replied cheekily.

"Souji Okita-san died from tuberculosis."

"Oh…how sad, cry me a river, Wolf boy. I feel hungry. Can we eat now, Tokio-san?"

"I'm sure we have some tofu, Teru-sama," she stood and went to find everyone something to eat. She found enough tofu and rice to feed everyone present and began preparing a little treat.

Everyone ate in silence, occasionally risking a sip of tea with their food. Morinosuke was the only one who really seemed to enjoy their dinner. Tokio winced every time she drank the tea and the food wasn't the best either. Hiroshi abruptly said he had someplace else to be and Morinosuke said he'd accompany him. She knew Hiroshi just wanted to go get some real food and Morinosuke was probably going out to a gambling house again. When she'd first heard her brother had gone to an illegal gambling joint she'd nearly kicked him out of the house. They'd had a long talk about it, but behind her back she knew her brother still occasionally visited the gambling halls.

Teru was talking animatedly. She couldn't believe her friend was sick. It didn't make sense. Teru would be fine, she was sure. She'd battle this disease and survive into old age. She would survive, she just knew it.

Saito went outside to smoke, complaining about all of his imported cigarettes being in Tonami and how cumbersome it was to light a match every time he wanted a drag from his pipe. It was the most he'd said all evening as he left the three of them inside. Teru laughed, saying she was going to bug Wolf boy.

"Wolf boy?"

"Her name for him."

"Oh… He allows that?"

"He's probably choking her at present," Katamori looked at his empty cup, undecided on if he wanted to risk tea poisoning by getting another cup.

"Sounds like Goro-san. Do you want water? I didn't have any idea that Morinosuke had brought the tea last time. I definitely told him to get the good tea, but he thinks the cheap stuff is just as good. He's not one for refinement."

"I prefer whatever is available usually, Tokio-san, but that tea……is worse than dirt." Katamori just shuddered, shaking his head.

She laughed, "I agree."

"Do you love him, Tokio-san?"

She nearly dropped the tea tray, staring at Katamori. "When did you realize that?"

"Not long ago. Has he proposed?"

"He's married, Katamori-sama."

"Since when?"

"1871."

"Wait… Who are we talking about, onna? Hiroshi got married to whom? What's her name? Where is she from?" She nearly face planted at that and here she'd thought Katamori had amazing observational skills. Clearly he hadn't figured out that it Saito.

"I wasn't talking about Hiroshi-sama."

His eyes went wide, "Why, Tokio-san, I'm flattered, but―."

"I wasn't talking about you, you old skunk!"

"I think you need help if incest is your cup of t―."

"Shut up," Saito and Teru both chuckled at the sudden yell from inside.

"He said something stupid again," Saito remarked, stuffing his pipe full.

"He always does, Goro-san."

"I do believe for once I agree with you, ugly lady."

"Humph." She glared indignantly at him as he smoked, taking a long drag from his pipe. He watched the flame on his match burn down nearly to his fingertips before throwing it on the ground without another thought. "How long have you known my Tokio-san?"

He shrugged at her question, "Three years. I lived with her while I stayed at Kurasawa Hieimon's residence."

"I think Katamori mentioned the man once," she gave a cough. She saw the sharp look Saito gave her and than his eyes returned to the smothering darkness around them. His brow had a slight furrow, his brows drawing tight, his eyes burning a hole into the dark. The next instance his expression was stoical once more. She wondered on that, coughing a little more. Had her coughs reminded him of Souji Okita?

"You won't die soon."

She stared wide eyed, "I already know my time is short, why try to cheer me up with nonsense? I wasn't aware you liked to lie to people."

"I'm not lying." He gave her a scathing look, one that dared her to call him a lair again, but it was milder than the looks he'd been giving to Morinosuke, her brother, and Hiroshi all night. "The progression of your cough and the amount of blood mixed in means you have time yet. You likely have many months left at least if not years. However," he shrugged, "if the blood and saliva becomes much stronger I suggest you talk to your doctor about herbal concoctions. Okita was taking them and said they seemed to be benefiting him. Of course Okita didn't listen to the doctors much, particularly about resting. I should think you require no prompting from me about bed rest, I'm sure Katamori has already nursed that enough. Just take care of yourself."

"Why are you telling me this?" All night he'd be distastefully sarcastic, ignoring all attempts at polite conversation, and generally bringing everyone's moods down. Or at least hers. She'd thought maybe her initial impression at the tea house would blow over, but it hadn't. In fact she found him a nuance and his attitude wasn't improving her portrayal of his character.

"Because Katamori would be most devastated if you passed over, particularly if it is because you're not seeing to you're health. He would blame himself."

"Oh…" A part of her was wondering if there was something more. He took out another match, struck it and took a puff of the cancer inducing tobacco. "You know that's bad for your health and mine, right?"

He smirked, "I'm afraid you'll have to deal with it. I promise not to blow it in your face though, that would be harsh even for me."

"I was surprised by tonight though. I think my Tokio-san is in love."

He blinked at her a long moment, his eyelashes fluttering against his pale chiseled cheek. He looked at her unflinchingly, his face amused, "With whom?"

"Why Hiroshi-san of course." Off in her own world imagining Tokio with Hiroshi Teruhime didn't notice the tightening in his shoulders or the frown that replaced his smirk. Both were quickly masked before she could notice. "She paid him so much attention. I almost thought she'd throw a fit when he made to leave, but than Tokio-san isn't one to let even that bother her. Of course Hiroshi-san was so reserved it was hard to tell if he returned her feelings. I'll talk to her later."

"You're not as sharp as I mistook you for, ugly woman."

Her eyes narrowed, "You…" She went into a long rant about his annoying qualities and called him several names even he, who'd lived with such unsavory mouthed people as Sanosuke Harada in the Shinsengumi, didn't know. Heck poor Okita's ears would have been red with shock to even begin thinking a woman knew such words, much less that she actually spoke them.

"Why would you, a stupid bloodthirsty Mibu, think I'm stupid? You…" She calmed down, grasping for breath. When she was about normal with her breathing she snapped, "Why would you say that?"

"Tokio-san feels nothing for Hiroshi-san. She already refused his proposal two years ago."

"People's first impressions can change, Mr. Harass-everyone-within-three-feet."

"You're first impression of me hasn't change, hm? Besides they met in Tsuruga Castle in 1868 and also Yamakawa-san stayed with us at Kurasawa-san's. I doubt her opinion has changed so much as that." A part of him believed that maybe Tokio had forgotten him and that she was ready to accept Hiroshi's offer now.

But his mind began thinking of how different his own opinion had become on the subject of Tokio Takagi. He'd thought her nothing more than another subdued, half intelligent woman with interest in little else but wealth and pretty things. His image on women in general had suffered an enormous transformation because of Tokio. Not that he'd thought women were beneath him, some he'd even admired like that Nakano Takeko of legend. As a youth and young man he'd always thought her heroic death an inspiration all women should follow.

His image of woman had quickly shattered over the years with all the stupid and selfish woman around him. Until Tokio and she was slowly making him think a little better on the more feminine sex. He'd never trust any one not to betray him and that included Katamori, but Katamori and Tokio both mirrored each other with their generosity, their humanity, and their strength.

He knew, no matter that all people couldn't be trusted and that she'd eventually turn to someone better, that he'd always care for her. He wasn't sentimental and he didn't expect her always to love him back, but his convictions had always been firm ones, particularly things he held dear. After nearly ten years following Aku Soku Zan unwaveringly there was no one he knew who'd say he wasn't a faithful determined son of bitch, even if they disagreed with his motto.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Teru's loud annoying voice. Great… His day had drastically gone down hill thanks to her. "You know Tokio-san fairly well, Goro-san, can you tell me if there's anyone she's taken special interest in?"

He snorted, "If I did have a clue I wouldn't divulge such personal information without her permission. She'll tell you if she wishes, but don't press her too firmly if she doesn't want to talk."

"What would you know about her? She would certainly tell me before anyone else! Screw…"

All Katamori and Tokio heard of the conversation outside was Teru's sudden yelling. He smiled while she ducked her head. "That leaves one Lone Wolf left, eh? I will admit that he is the last person I guessed with good reason. He's determined to forever follow that creed I gave him. Sometimes I wished I'd never muttered those three words in front of that man. One should never build their castles on sand, but firm solid foundation… Saito has the good foundation laid, but he never started his castle He's struck forever at that point in his life when I gave him that ultimatum. He can't seem to move on… I enabled it…I figured he wouldn't live to see the end of the Bakumatsu, much less this peaceful era where his skill has little meaning. He's the shadow of an era long passed… I regret many things I've done, Tokio-san, but I regret stunting Saito-kun's growth so much."

She was deadly silent, "Is Aku Soku Zan so horrible?" She'd never been sure if she agreed with his killing of people, but the morals were sound to an extent.

Katamori knew her logic well, "I see you dislike the sullying of his hands, Tokio-san, but he doesn't and until that day his castle will remain incomplete. Saito doesn't understand that in this time of peace he must lay new foundation. He's forever striving to go down that road. The ultimatum I gave him lead to two roads, one the life of an easy-loving samurai without morals, the other a merciless killer with unrelenting morals. To be able to combine the extreme convictions of one with the persona of the other is ideal. I had other men like him back than. Not many wanted the second path and not many could achieve the sacrifice of life's pleasures to the duty to the motto. He did…and I do admit I applaud his loyalty, but he is still only half a man. Tokio-san," he reached over across the tray, taking her hand. His face bore a touch of gentleness, but his eyes were fiercely serious. "You must help him build his castle. Help him see that life is worth living and give him the strength to want to live that life."

Katamori drew away from her, hearing the shoji slide open. Her eyes glanced up as Saito halted just beyond the frame, his tall body taking up the whole entrance way and he had to duck to enter. She was crying, she realized, and she stood hastily, wiping her eyes with a laugh.

She had always doubted her ability to love him for his Aku Soku Zan side of his personality, but now she knew her fears had been fruitless. She'd never wanted to admit that she'd never felt completely alright with that part of him, but she understood her discomfort now and accepted it was how it would be…for now. Until Saito saw on his own just how wrong he was, until he was more than just half a man, she would be there, beside him, watching his progress to unity and harmony inside him. She would never push him to give up his motto because that would mean she'd lose him. She would watch him try and bear his pain dutiful until the day he realized that a sword stand was waiting to take his bloody swords from him.

Saito entered after he got sick of Teru's annoying comments and his pipe was nothing but ash. Before entering he knocked the ash against his hakama, stepping silently inside. Lifting his head from ducking through the short door frame he saw that Tokio was looking at him with such a sweet expression that he was left tongue-tied. A rare occasion for one as eloquent with words as him. He had to admit at least in his mind that she had never looked more glowing with beauty.

He realized he'd stopped and that Teru was yelling at him for making her stand in the cold. He glared at the ground, angry that she'd ruined a perfectly happy moment for him before he went to sit. Only Teru spoke through out the rest of the evening and it was Katamori hardly ten minute later declaring they should be getting on their way. The Matsudaira annoyances finally done and being with only Tokio he relaxed.

She hadn't said anything since he'd entered and he wondered on it as they sat, drinking the water she'd poured. He was thankful the lingering taste from that thing Morinosuke considered tea was gone. He cracked his neck and than his knuckles, aware of the silence. He stood, he should go.

"Where are you staying?" He told her the name of the district and the inn, mentioning that it wasn't far from the department of interior headquarters. Okubo had asked he get situated close by while he was here.

"I'll have to return to Tonami soon," to Yaso was the unspoken sentiment between them.

"I will miss you when you leave. I want you to know my feelings are eternal. I know you don't believe me, I know you don't trust me even, not yet, but you will someday, my Hajime-san."

He snorted, why was she suddenly so emotional? "You worry unnecessarily. When we meet again, smile. You look much more beautiful when you smile," he closed the shoji behind him, glaring at the cold night as if in question. He'd give Katamori an earful for having said even one word to his Tokio another night.


	16. Chapter 16: Tokyo, 1873, Part 5

"Goro-san's birthday is January first?"

"You weren't aware of that even after two years of living with him?" Katamori looked bemused at that.

She blushed, ducking her head, "I asked, but he never would tell me. He said birthdays were stupid…"

"Sounds like him… I suggest we do something for Goro-san."

"Why would I want to do anything for that Wolf boy?" Teru looked annoyed, glancing between the four other occupants. "Besides isn't he leaving in three days?"

"His birthday and his leaving are good reasons to be give gifting people, Teru-chan."

"Not like he's ever been nice!"

Tokio refilled Morinosuke's cup as Teru blasted Saito's character. Teru didn't know her Hajime well yet, but she would see if given time just how sweet he could be. Well perhaps sweet was a bad word for him, more like semi-kind if he liked you. If he didn't like you, well you better just hope he did.

Morinosuke glanced nervously between the two fighting siblings, mumbling something to Hiroshi. Teruhime spoke, "We can go out and buy that moron something so long as it shuts you up."

The day was winding down and the streets were slightly less crowded. Teru led the way to the shopping district, chatting on about the Year End festival. Hm…her first Year End festival in Tonami had been the only time Saito had directly said he loved her. Her second had…been less wonderful. She wouldn't mind a repeat of her first year's festival, but she was expecting it would probably be either boring or mild at best. Teru was asking Katamori what he thought Saito would like.

Tokio hadn't gotten Saito anything for his last two birthdays and a part of her reflected that she'd been neglectful. Than again he'd never brought her anything. Of course perhaps if they had it would have been looked at badly. What should she get him? Maybe she should get him something to make up for the wasted birthdays? She frowned as she trailed after everyone. She nearly ran into Teru when she stopped short, pointing out a tall figure inside an antique shop. "That's the Wolf!"

She knew his back anywhere. He was talking to the shopkeeper, a well dressed man in his forties. The conversation ended and Saito came outside. Seeing them just across the street, he glanced at them indifferently and turned down a side street in the opposite direction. She chuckled inwardly as Teru started to fuss about Saito not coming over and being polite.

She was wondering why he'd been inside an antique shop when she recalled a conversation about it. Saito had said that he'd brought Isami Kondo a sword from an antique shop, the sword had been a look-a-like of a more expensive make, but Isami had apparently been really pleased with the gift. She kept this new nugget about him to ponder later with fondness.

She loved learning little things like this about her Hajime. It made her smile and helped keep up the mystery. Not that she didn't know him well by now, three years did that to someone, but it was pleasant when she found out something interesting about her love that she'd not known before. It wasn't that he was secretive about his little quirks; it was merely that he didn't find it necessity to babble on about himself and preferred to listen to her talk about herself. She smiled inwardly, brushing some loose hair from her face, thinking that he truly was an endearingly good man.

Teru had the idea that Saito needed new clothes. Katamori said clothing was a bad choice, Saito wasn't picky in the color or the pattern of his clothing, but he was picky about the comfort. He was the sort of man who preferred to be able to draw his sword at any given moment and certain clothing was a no-no for him because of that. He'd told Katamori he hated the formal wedding attire and that he hated most formal clothing because it usually limited movement. Apparently Saito was on the fence about western style clothing, Katamori was telling Teru, because he hadn't decided yet if the freedom allowed by hakama pants were superior to the restricted western pants.

The two were talking while she tried to think of something to get Saito. What did he really need and would appreciate? Saito wasn't a materialistic person, remembering his room back at Kurasawa's. A few times before his marriage they'd sat in Saito's room and she had instantly noticed the lack of anything considered unnecessary for living. Of course once Yaso had moved in she'd added a touch of her own to his bland style, even changing the drab gray zabuton for bright tan ones.

She was still going through a list of potential gift ideas when Katamori finally managed to convince Teru out of her clothing idea. They went to another store. Teru insisted she was going to buy Saito sake, before Katamori shot down that idea by saying he didn't drink. When an aghast Teru asked why Katamori merely said Saito had a bad habit of attacking the prettiness female nearby, hinting with a look to Teru, or the most obnoxious person, again hinting at his sister. Saito had said he got violent when drunk, but she doubted he'd hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. She'd never seen him drunk though, so she couldn't really back up her thoughts on it.

"What about watches, those are a safe beat right?"

"He doesn't use watches."

"Why not?"

"He's just never kept one."

"Maybe he should start. After all he doesn't want to be late for anything."

"I beat he has a remarkable sense of time for a guy whose never used a watch," Morinosuke suggested, joining the conversation.

Teru threw out suggestions to Katamori for gifts, getting her ideas tossed back as worthless. "I'm not buying him anything, he is impossible to buy for," here she went into a tirade all about Saito's bad qualities.

Tokio chuckled, suggesting that Teru buy him something practical like good tea or something. He liked things that he could use. Hopefully they all found him something before January first.

* * *

Saito glared at Morinosuke, then at Hiroshi blocking his escape route, and then a dejected look at Katamori, Teruhime, and Tokio. They all deserved to die for this, this was evil, extremely evil and cruel and he wanted to kill them all very badly for this transgression.

Had he ever celebrated his birthday? No, so why would he suddenly enjoy doing it? Why did they all decide they wanted to celebrate it? The only change was Katamori's idiot sister so he figured she must have been the reason they had ambushed him and dragged him here. He'd thought tea at Morinosuke's would have been an appropriate last day here since he wasn't likely to see any of them after tonight, but it had been a goddamn trap. Plus there had been the added bonus of seeing Tokio once more before his departure. Now he was just ticked off, arms cross over his chest and eyes narrowed.

"Being grouchy on your birthday is something only you would do, Goro-san," Katamori said. "Why don't we all sit?"

Hiroshi kept near the door though, making sure he didn't try to run. He glared at Katamori, sitting across from him on the zabuton mats. Teru was whispering something to Tokio, causing her to laugh. He glared them down until they stopped talking. Teru meet his hard look with a fiery glare. Tokio looked amused and that annoyed him beyond all reason. Did she find his torture funny? She would pay for that later.

"The faster we get this over with the better my mood."

Morinosuke chuckled, "I get to go first!"

His gift was stupid so Saito tossed it across the floor, away from him. Morinosuke and Teru started to yell at him for being so disrespectful as Tokio fetched it off the ground. She set it down in front of him, meeting his eyes her look was very displeased. He thought he liked that biting look on her face very well, it also had the added affect of arousing him. He smiled smugly; he'd have to be mean like this more often if it produced such a look on her pretty features. He didn't really care that he'd annoyed Morinosuke and Teru.

Katamori's gift was better selected than Morinosuke's cheap headband and matching obi. He appreciated the fine texture of the wood under his fingertips and smiling maliciously he wondered how much damage he could inflict with this little kaiken on Hiroshi on his way out of here. He smirked, "Something I'll relish the use of, Katamori-san," he smiled at Morinosuke who was busy fiddled with his failed attempt at a present. "Perhaps I could use this right now?"

He pulled the little dagger out, chuckling at a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look Morinosuke gave him. He'd enjoy seeing some cuts on that moron, a real shame he couldn't though. Not with the ladies here anyway so he sheathed it to the relief of everyone else. "Next," he said in annoyance.

Teru's gift was practical and it actually was a brand of tea and flavor he enjoyed. He was quite surprised that the little she-demon had come up with a good gift. "Well, well, well, not sake?"

"I thought you didn't drink?" Teru looked annoyed and upset.

"I'm teasing," but he'd accomplished what he'd wanted to by that comment. Teruhime's quick glance at Tokio didn't go unnoticed. So Tokio had suggested the gift, eh, not bad… She had prepared him tea many times so it wasn't surprising she knew what he liked.

Hiroshi handed his present from over his shoulder. He was acutely aware of the uneasiness in the room all of a sudden. It wasn't hard to figure out why. Apparently Hiroshi had brought his gift without them being present and they were even more eager than he was to find out what it was.

Opening it his eyes narrowed. He closed it with aggravation. He didn't want this gift, even more than he didn't want Morinosuke's dumb present. He already had one and that one would never leave his side. He pushed the little box away from him, "I don't need that, keep it."

A heavy silence, "I'd figured you'd like knowing what the time is. I've not seen you ever use a watch."

His jaw tightened, it was none of Hiroshi's business. This was the reason he hated birthdays. People always gave you crappy gifts and always wanted you to bow at their feet for their generosity. Generosity my ass, more like a royal pain. He said nothing though, frowning.

It was Teru's voice that spoke next, "Tokio-san still hasn't given her gift."

Tokio handed him a small box. He opened it, finding a new pipe and tobacco inside. "I heard you mention once that you didn't like your pipe so I brought you a new one."

He twisted the kiseru between his fingers, liking the feel of the bamboo shaft. The bowl and the mouthpiece were bronze. He smiled at the thoughtfulness of his nice kiseru, how much had it cost her though? He didn't like to think she spent too much on it considering the fact that her and Morinosuke were hardly getting by.

He stayed in the room a little longer before gathering his gifts and deciding that he was leaving. He just got out the shoji when a hand on his arm stopped him. His hand went to his daisho, but relaxed when he saw it was just Tokio.

"Goro-san," Tokio closed the shoji behind her with one hand, she had a bundle tucked under one arm.

"Thank you for the kiseru," he said, not having told her earlier how much he appreciated it. His old pipe was crap and this kiseru was really the best present he'd gotten in years.

"You are welcome, Goro-san. I got you this also… I'm not sure you'll like it or even that you won't hack it to pieces when you open it…but promise me you'll let me see you in it just once? It can be somewhere private, but you have to promise me."

He raised an eyebrow as she handed him the bundle. He frowned at her concerned face, what kind of clothing was it that she was so worried he'd dislike it? "Fine," he grumbled, pretty sure the risk wasn't too much.

She smiled, "Thank you."

"Come over tomorrow at noon. I have business to finish tonight."

She nodded and smiling one more time withdrew back inside. His interest in the garment was peaked at her strange behavior, but he quickly forgot about it when he left his gifts at the inn and went back out to go kill some corrupt politician that Okubo had briefed him on this morning.


	17. Chapter 17: Tokyo, 1873, Part 6

He was busy pouring some of the tea Teru had gifted him with when he remembered the bundle. He glanced over at it, wonderingly. He drank half the glass, savoring the treat, smacking his lips in satisfaction. He went to the bundle and sat back down on the zabuton.

His mood was considerably better today than yesterday. That went down hill when he saw the white tiger mountain stripes on the sleeve of an asagiiro uniform. He threw it away, not caring where it landed. His hands went to his lap. Someone who didn't know him well would have assumed he was at peace drinking his tea. That was a far cry from reality. He was battling demons. His hands, usually relaxed but alert, were stiff against his knees, fingers close together where usually they had space between them. He didn't want to see them shaking.

He was remembering another time. Souji Okita, wearing that uniform, carefully stabbing his opponents and darting out of the path of the spraying blood. He'd always done his best to keep blood off his uniform, of course it wasn't always so easy, but on most mild nights he succeed. Toshizo Hijikata, the 'Demon' Vice Commander, spilling blood, his eyes hard as ice. Harada spearing an Ishin Shin patriot through, blood falling onto his dark hair and cover the front of his haori. Shinpachi Nagakura slashing off the head of a patriot…

He opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them. He heard children's voices to his left in the direction of the street, vendors shouting, happy customers shouting below, and someone whistling down the corridor. He sighed deeply, those were dreams and this was reality. He had to remind himself that Okita, Hijikata, Kondo, and Harada were all dead.

He stood, walking downstairs. He sat down at a table. It was the first time in the whole month he'd spent in Tokyo that he'd crept out of his room and into the inn's restaurant below. The place was neatly arranged, each table sparkling clean, and the main counter empty. It wasn't even eleven yet. Two waitresses watched him sit in the back of the restaurant. They chatted between each other, trying to decide which should come take his order. He was sure he looked frightening to them and he was sure his scowl wasn't helping.

"Sake," he barked out. The man, supposedly the cook, reached for a jar. He waited as the sake was brought over. The girl poured his first drink and eyed him with a bewildered look. What kind of man drank so early, her face seem to ponder as her surprising blue eyes met his. His scowl got deeper, it was none of her business. "Set that down and vacant the area," he said calmly.

She set the flask down and hurried back to the counter. She was talking to the other waitress. He raised the sake glass. "Isami Kondo," he muttered, drinking the full glass down until it was empty.

He refilled it himself. Toshizo Hijikata. Another glass gone. Souji Okita…drink…Shinpachi Nagakura…drink…one for himself…Each member he toasted a glass. Fourth captain Chuuji Matsubara, fifth Takeda Kanryuusai, sixth Genzaburo Inou, seventh Sanjuro Tani, eighth Heisuke Todo, ninth Mikisaburo Suzuki, and the tenth captain Sanosuke Harada. He toasted Susumu Yamazaki, the head of the intelligence department, Kai Shimada, a corporal in Nagakura's unit and a close friend of Okita's, and one of the key founders Kamo Serizawa. He even drank a glass for Kashitaro Ito. His last drink was to Keisuke Yamanami. Most men would have been drunk by now, especially at the rate and short period between each cup, but Saito had been able to drink every member of the Shinsengumi under the table so the drink hardly affected him.

He sat for a while, recalling old memories. Stupid things mostly. Like the time Okita had found him washing his fundoshi and he'd explained that he washed his clothes regularly unlike some of the more lazy members, aka Okita. Okita had gone around telling everyone he washed his fundoshi every day and sometimes twice. This of course had resulted in Kai Shimada letting the rumor that he wet himself at night circulate. He'd not been pleased when Kondo had called him into his rooms and told him if he had a problem wetting the bed that he could talk to him about it.

He'd been pissed for the next couple of days, but had gotten back at Okita and Kai a few weeks later. Everyone had called his stunt the 'Great Food Poisoning of 65.' He'd put a little something into Okita and Kai's lunch and the two had started freaking out when their rice balls had given them cramps, diarrhea, and vomiting. Of course everyone else in the Shinsengumi headquarters had worried about food poison. Hijikata had not been pleased, he remembered, he'd been forced to clean the dojo for a month straight and his unit had double patrols because of chaos that had ensued.

He hadn't regretted doing it even after his punishment. He still didn't regret it today. Hm…it was one of those good memories he associated with the Shinsengumi. He leaned against his chair, staring off into space.

What would Hijikata be doing today in this peaceful era if he'd lived? Probably moping about losing the war, he mused, and Kondo would be telling him he was ridiculous and that they should move on. Okita would be laughing or teasing Yamanami about that oiran he was in love with. Kai would be talking about gambling, Sanosuke would be showing off his seppuku scar to the oiran and geisha, and Ito would be shaking his head muttering how beneath a samurai's honor gambling and prostitutes were. He would have been sitting nearby, indifferent at all around him. Just like the old days. He'd never admit to anyone that what he missed most about the Bakufu days were his friends in the Shinsengumi. Yes, they had been his friends, but no one would ever know that either, he'd never even told them.

He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them Tokio was leaning over him, smiling. Maybe he could trust her and tell her about them. He'd tell her all about Hijikata's ideals, Okita's humor, Kondo's sense of honor, Nagakura's strength, and Harada's loyalty. He shook himself, he'd drunk too much. He was being sentimental now. "Tokio-san?"

"You look bad. Give me your arm, Goro-san." She helped him to his feet, leading him up the stairs. He told her which room was his and they went in. Inside that outfit was mocking him, one sleeve falling out of the wrapping as if an old comrade was reaching out from the grave.

Tokio helped him sit down on the zabuton mats. He cursed the sake now, feeling lightheaded. If anyone wanted to attack him now would be an opportune moment. Tokio was heating up some water. He watched her silently, acutely aware of the sway of her hips in her kimono. She looked good in that purple kimono, her hair in white ribbons and gold kanzashi. He scrutinized the tea she set down a second later, carefully sipping the hot liquid. He felt warmer and his head was starting to clear as he continued drinking. Tokio went to the bundle, closed it, picked it open, and set it down in front of him.

He glared at it, it caused too many memories to surface. He should burn it or something. Why had she tortured him with such a gift? It was cruel of her to want to remind him of a past he was trying to forget. His hand twitched when she leaned over it, pulling back a flap of the wrapping. His face hardened and he stopped her hand from opening it completely. Just seeing that light blue color was making him feel nauseous. He closed it quickly, trying to dispel old memories.

Silence reined as he watched her darkly. She would do better not to try it again his eyes said and her face said she knew his discomfort. "Goro-san, is it really healthy to bottle up your feelings… You can talk to me about those days. I'd understand, I went through hell too. You mention things here and there, but I know that isn't enough. Don't you ever want to share your pain? You can lean on me, I won't push you away because the memories are bloody ones or run away because I'm scared. Trust me, Goro-san, please."

He turned away from her pleading face, her look was too much for him. "What do you want to hear? How much of a monster I was? Would stories of bloody nights in the dark streets of Kyoto entertain you? Those were not entertaining times, Tokio-san, they were a necessity evil. Killing people isn't something I enjoy and no one should, liking killing is evil. It was and still is the only way to deal with evil properly though. Locking a criminal in a jail cell keeps him away from his prey, but for how long? To let evil continue with only a slap on the wrist is dishonorable and compromising to that evilness. The police do it all the time…"

His hands clutched his kimono. "To allow evil to thrive is evil itself. To root out that evil sometimes requires evil, killing even in the name of Aku Soku Zan is evil, but its necessity. It's the only evil that is allowed in my book. Manslayers are sometimes unavoidable; we are needed to protect those who can not protect themselves. In this era manslayers are still necessity. I can't tell you about it, that would be…wrong. It would be wrong to tell the one I'm protecting about the monsters at the gate." His knuckles were white now, "Where is the sense in that?"

"Goro-san… Even though you're a manslayer…even though you consider yourself evil…you are not. You're the best man I know. You kill to protect people like me and Morinosuke, Teru, and Katamori. You're a really good man, but…should you deprive yourself of happiness?"

"Humph. You're the only happiness I desire and you make me happy just by being alive, Tokio-san. To be safe trusted with your protection is dearer to me than anything else," he was sure it was because of the drink that his tongue was so quick to speak his feelings.

She smiled, pushing the tray and bundle to the side. She knelt before him and while he was quite surprised when she leaned her head against his chest it was pleasantly so. He didn't touch her, too afraid to touch her fragile body and too afraid he'd never let himself let go if he did. Her perfume today was something like lavender…he pressed his face to her hair, uncertain if this was too much. He was married and he was sure Yaso would have thought this was unfaithful. In his eyes it was only a little contact so he didn't consider it cheating. A kiss, no matter how chaste, would have been a no-no, but this was acceptable.

"Don't you ever…" he felt her chest move against his, just waiting for the rise and fall. He'd never held any woman so dearly like this, not Yaso and not Aioi, that he found this to be quite a unique experience. "Feel like your missing out?"

"No. Why should I when I have all I want right here."

"Saito…" It was the second time she'd called him by his former last name only. He liked it almost as much as Hajime. "I like you when you're drunk."

He snorted, he was too wishy-washy and talkative when he was drunk. If anyone else saw him like this he'd lose his reputation instantly. Thank goodness that Teru woman wasn't here. "I thought you get violent. Is that just what you tell people?"

"No. A couple more glasses of good sake and I'd have probably killed those poor waitresses."

"Sure," she sounded skeptical. He'd fix that.

"I'll show you," he went to stand, but her hand on his kimono pulled him back down. He stared as her face reddened. Her hand was on the inside of his kimono and juban, her fingers just barely skimmed his chest. He shuddered with delight and she pulled away brushing.

"Sorry, Goro-san!" Her voice was higher pitched than usual.

He grunted, trying to control his arousal. Stupid girl… Being drunk also made him quicker to ravage a woman and if she wasn't carefully he might just attack her right now. He straightened his kimono, glancing at her flushed face. She looked a sight, a lovely sight too. He took a breath, calming his hands and making his face stoical, no drinking, drinking resulted in less control over his emotions. That meant bad and bad equated to him doing something stupid that he'd be forced to commit seppuku over. Hm…not that he wouldn't have enjoyed that time and he'd make sure to drag it out, but he really didn't want to die for a few hours of pleasure. Of course it was hard, it was Tokio he could be enjoying himself with and that made it about ten times more difficult. Damn sake.


	18. Chapter 18: Tokyo, 1874, Part 1

So I finally resolved the whole Yaso/Saito/Tokio triangle, yeah! This was a really hard chapter to write. I just wasn't sure about it while I was writing it, but I hope it's enjoyable at the least. R&R.

* * *

"Goro-san," greeted Amane. He nodded his head at her, frowning. Why did she look so happy to see him? Weird. "I'm so glad your back. Yaso-san's inside."

He found her laying on the futon, despite that it was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon. She wasn't facing him, but the open shoji leading into the garden. He saw Kurasawa and Ueda outside talking, occasionally Kurasawa would point out a flower or something and Ueda would look annoyed. Out of the line of sight was Satsuki, laughing with Haruna. From their carefree happy banter he made out that they were playing chess.

Amane standing beside him said, "Goro-san has returned."

Yaso rolled over and he noticed that she'd lost weight. Tokio had lost weight when he'd first seen her in Tokyo, but she'd quickly gained it back over the month he'd been there. He hoped she took care of her health and they'd even talked about it before he left. Yaso looked much weaker than when he'd left, almost like the arm supporting her would collapse at any given point. Her face was pale, her cheekbones gaunt, and the whites in her eyes were red. She looked tired and old, but she smiled at him.

"Husband," she said. She went to stand, but Amane went over and pushed her gently back down. Something was wrong… Was Yaso ill or something? He sat down beside her on the tatami, asking Amane to go prepare some tea. When she was gone, Yaso spoke. "I want you to read this." She pulled out some paper from her kimono.

He frowned, "Why not just tell me yourself?"

She looked away, "Just go read it."

"No. Tell me what's wrong."

"Go away," her tone had a steeliness he'd not heard there before. There was resolve in her eyes for the first time and for a second he almost admired his wife for that.

He stood, annoyed, "Where are my cigarettes?"

Amane grabbed them from a shelf and handed them to him. He pulled one out and lit it. Taking a drag he walked out. He could use some sword practice anyway. He went to the spare room. Once inside on a zabuton, he smoked in annoyance. How dare his wife shoo him from their room. He glanced out the little window, seeing bright sunshine and blue sky. He took a drag, glanced at the bundle of paper. How many sheets did she need to say something to him? He snorted, snubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and picked up the bundle. Opening it and unfolding the paper, he frowned as he read the first lines.

_Dear Hajime,_

_You'll probably be annoyed that I'm writing your old name, but I'm done caring if I breach your unwritten code of conduct. Screw your code, Hajime! I hate you! There it is, out in the open. I feel more relieved knowing that little bit of information is out there. Now your thinking that hate is a strong word and indeed it is. Dislike is more appropriate I suppose. _

Hm…He hadn't expected such bluntness, but he did respect the truth. Even if the truth was ugly. His wife disliked him, perhaps even hated him…She had good reason, he reflected, reaching for his cigarettes. He'd need one if he was going to keep reading.

_So many times I've wished not to be married to you. I could not understand at first why you disdained me when all I'd done was be a good wife. It took me two years to realize what the real problem was. Tokio. I don't know when it started and I don't want to know, all I know is that she is my enemy and that she is the one who ruined any happiness I might have had with you. I truly hate her and yet…I envy her your love. _

So she knew…just as he'd expected. This was problematic. Yaso wasn't going to let him live this down. She thought he'd made love to Tokio. He'd have to tell her he hadn't, he was sure she wouldn't believe him, but it was worth a try.

_A part of me loves you, Hajime. I'll admit it here, better to get this all out I suppose. If she hadn't existed, if she'd died in Aizu before you'd ever met her, if she'd just never come to Tonami, would you have loved me like a real husband? Would you have said those three words I want so desperately to hear before I die? I use to wonder in that first year, but I've given up wondering about that. It's fruitless to expect you'd ever love me, it just cuts me deeper than any of the other thoughts. _

Tokio. Even if he'd never met Tokio he knew he'd never have loved Yaso, but he couldn't tell her that, she needed some hope in her bleak state…

_I use to love you more than I disliked you. I thought you just had some odd quirks, quirks like your sarcastic words, your smoking, and your stoic facial expressions amused me at first…later I began to hate them because every time I smelled smoke I thought of you and every time I heard some biting remark I heard your voice saying it with a smirk. I loved your smirk, Hajime. I hate you for causing me all this pain. Why couldn't you have just died during your Shinsengumi days? Better that I never met you. _

He felt slightly bad for hurting Yaso so much. As weak as her character had been he hadn't wanted to cause her pain.

_I resented you for treating me with no more importance than a whore. I was nothing more than an oiran you feed and sheltered as payment. I'm the daughter of a proud samurai, not some loose woman on the streets of Kyoto. Not that Aioi Tayu you enjoyed so much in your younger days. Don't think I didn't look into your background with women when Kurasawa first mentioned you and marriage in the same sentence. How funny this all would have been and how easily resolved if Kurasawa had chosen Tokio instead of me. If she'd been the beautiful one and I the pretty obscure one. My life would have been so much more enjoyable in these last few years._

He'd treated her badly, he knew, but what else could he have done? It would have been crueler to pretend to love her. Who the hell had told her about Aioi Tayu? Hm… He hadn't thought about that oiran in a long time, he wondered if she was still working in Shimabara. He was through with his second cigarette so he lit another one, smoking was bad, he mused, and chain smoking was worse, but he didn't care at the moment.

_Kurasawa had to bring someone to Tonami to look into my sickness. I'm sure you're not so inattentive of me that you didn't notice my deteriorating state in the last few years. It's gotten progressively more bothersome over the last few months. I'm starting to fear I have little time left. The same doctor came shortly before your arrival three years ago. He'd said there was no name for the disease and that it was normal the last time. However now that he's returned to Tonami his views are different. This time he mentioned something about infection, saying my disease makes me more vulnerable to other diseases. The doctor mentioned because of my health that I shouldn't try for children._

Yaso was dying… What? He nearly dropped his cigarette. She didn't deserve death, no matter how nagging or weak willed she was.

_With my health so critical and my inability to bear you a son I think divorce would be satisfactory to both of us. I've attached the necessity documents and hope to hear a happy hurrah from you about this. You will be free to marry that slut of yours Tokio and I will be free to die peacefully._

_Your soon-to-be-late wife,_

_Yaso Shinoda_

He felt heat on his leg, but he was too busy rereading the last few sentences, too stunned to believe them even after a third read through. He cursed when he realized his cigarette was burning a hole through his hakama. He jumped up, brushing his pant leg in frustration. Yaso was divorcing him… What the hell? Was she stupid?

He folded the letter, checking the other papers he found they were indeed divorce documents. He picked up the still burning cigarette and snubbed it out. He walked over to the window and peeked outside. He saw Kurasawa and Ueda's tall frames and Satsuki and Haruna bent over a Japanese chess broad. Just as before. He glared, turned on his heel, and hurried back to his room.

When he arrived she wasn't on the futon. He went to the shoji. She was by the fish pond. He remembered seeing Tokio with her geta off, dipping her feet into the cool water many times. Heck their second meeting had been outside, on a similarly warm and sunny day.

He sat down beside her and taking out the paper unfolded it. Her eyes, a light shade of brown which he'd never notice were beautiful, looked sorrowful. He ordered unmoving from his spot, "Some ink and brush."

Amane, standing near the shoji, hurried in to fetch it. Kurasawa and Ueda ended their walk around the garden and Haruna and Satsuki stopped their game. He felt everyone's eyes on him. Amane returned, running into the garden with a corked bottle of ink and brush. He took the things from her and set them before Yaso.

Picking up the brush, their misgivings were affirmed when he spoke. "Do you want me to sign the divorce papers, Yaso-san?"

He flipped open to the part where his signature was required. He looked at her face, unforgiving and unflinching. Would she falter and grab his hand? He corked the bottle open, dipped the brush in, and hovering over the signature spot watched her. He glanced down at the paper. He nearly jumped when he hand fell onto his. Her small palm pressed over the back of his hand, lifting her palm slightly her fingers tightened on his palm. Her thumb touched the knuckle of his pointer finger. Pressing his hand down it hit the paper.

"I want you to sign."

"Are you sure? There is no turning back, Yaso-san."

"Why should you care about my feelings, Goro-san? You never did before."

"Not true. I always tried to treat you fittingly. I didn't love you," he held her eyes, "so why should I pretend I did? I'm sorry my feelings weren't proper, but you shouldn't blame Tokio-san. She did nothing improper with me, know that before I sign."

"You love her, yes?"

"I do. I always will. I love her for who she is…and she loves me. Do you want me to sign?"

"Why would you refuse your own happiness to stay married to me? I'm dying anyway…"

"I'd refuse my own happiness because if I didn't I'd have no honor or pride. If I'd given into my basic needs with Tokio-san I wouldn't be able to look at myself for shame. Part of being a samurai, of following Bushido, is rectitude. When I vowed to follow the motto of Ako Soku Zan I refused to do a half assed job of it. I not only vowed to kill evil in others, but myself. How could I live with knowing I'd committed what I knew to be evil? Some say infidelity is not immoral, but to me it is, so I've refused to be evil. I already kill, something I condemn, but because it is for the good of those who are innocent I allow that trespass. Yaso-san, do you understand?"

Her face was calm, but there was disquiet in her eyes. "Why'd you marry me in the first place?"

"Kurasawa-san told me you were dying." He saw her glance at the man, "He asked me to see to your happiness and I owned him for helping me. I had not figured my own happiness into the equation and I refuse to do so now. Have I brought you happiness, despite the pain? If I have I've succeeded in what I set out to do."

Her eyes were wide for she'd never have figured even for an instant that Hajime Saito had married her to make her happy. She'd always just assumed he'd marry her to bear children or for sexual pleasure, even both made sense. The realization that he'd known even before their marriage vows that she was sick was startling to say the least.

"Hajime?"

"Yes, Yaso-san?"

"Call me Yaso."

"Yaso."

"Divorce me now. It would make me happy and it would make you happy too. And before you ask I'm certain about my decision."

Her hand lifted from his and he wrote Goro Fujita in the signature area. He observed her face, wondering if she regretted it, but her face showed no signs of remorse.

He smiled, touched her face gently, and pulled her weak frame into his arms. He held her for a long time, just listening to the inhale and exhale of her breathing and feeling the rise and fall of her chest. It was funny to think that Tokio and Yaso both breathed almost exactly the same, yet they had such different personalities. He'd never loved Yaso and as he held her he felt for the first time an affectionate love swell in his chest for her.

"Yaso?"

"Yes, Hajime?"

"Koi shiteru," he whispered so only she heard. He didn't want an audience for that. It was good enough of a knock to his reputation knowing he was hugging his wife in front of everyone, much less that he said those words to her.

"Why?"

"Because for the first time you've proven to me that you are a samurai's daughter."

He felt her stiffen in his arms. Always Yaso had insisted that she was the daughter of a great samurai, but she'd never shown any tenets of Bushido in life. Here in one single evening she'd shown rectitude and courage in upholding her decision, benevolence and respect in regards to Tokio, a person she considered her enemy, honesty in telling him all that she had in the letter, and honor and loyalty to her heart's desires.

He smiled smugly, letting her go. She'd proven her resolve and he'd never felt more touched by her than he was now. He withdrew, going back upstairs. The spare room was dark, the sun had hidden behind clouds and no candles had been lit here. He didn't bother lighting any though, in silence he practiced his sword techniques until it grew too dark to see properly. He returned to their room and lay down beside Yaso for the last time. They didn't make love and he knew she didn't want to. He just held her ailing form, knowing that because of today she would die happy with herself when she passed on.


	19. Chapter 19: Tokyo, 1874, Part 2

So I made a mistake and Tokyo, 1873, Part 4 was actually Part 5. And part 4 was missing. My bad. Seeing as part 4 is a valuable part of the story and can't be overlooked, it's been added. So instead of 5 parts of 1873 there is now 6 parts. I suggest everyone go back and read Tokyo, 1873, Part 4, the chapters following it are the same as before. Sorry about the mess up, it was completely a moment of stupidity on my part.

* * *

Tokio awake, blinking sleep from her eyes she saw that the calendar read June tenth. A lovely day it would be, she reflected, smiling. She sat up, Morinosuke was no where to be seen. Slipping out of her nemaki she started to dress. She picked out the light pink kimono and even slipped on some geta and put two identical bronze kanzashi in her hair. She had an engagement later this evening at Maeko's house.

She spent the early morning sewing up a haori Morinosuke had ripped yesterday. When that task was done she washed clothes in a basin and hung them out to dry. She cleaned Morinosuke's room and was happy to see that he'd kept it moderately clean this time. She glanced at a pocket watch Morinosuke had kept in a pair of hakama and realized it was time to go.

Maeko's house wasn't far and the short walk was calming. She waved to a few people she recognized as neighbors, politely greeting a vendor who always had his stall in the same spot each day and who Morinosuke and she had brought noodles from plenty of times. She strolled by a neighbor boy who yanked on her obi as she passed. She stopped to chat with his mother and say a greeting to him before going on. The smell of the soba she passed made her hungry, but she refused it. There would be dinner at Maeko's.

When she knocked on the frame of the shoji it was Genji who answered. He beamed at her, grabbing her hand he pulled her inside. She put her geta in the getabako and stepped inside. She could hear voices, loud boisterous male voices and the more subdue tones of females. Inside the living area was Katamori, Teruhime, Hiroshi, Morinosuke, a men she didn't recognize, and Genji's mother and father who she had met a few times. Someone pushed her aside and entered, bowing to Genji and Maeko's father. The boy, hardly thirteen, spoke quickly, "My chores are done so can I go outside with Genji-chan?"

"Yes, Renjirou-chan." Genji quietly behind her yelped with joy and the two, clearly brothers, hurried out. She smiled, bowing in greeting to everyone.

"Tokio Takagi-san, I'm glad to finally meet you," he was a short man, crisply dressed in a gray hakama, blue haori, and black kimono. He smiled coolly and wore his short black hair in a topknot style. He looked only a little older than Katamori.

"I'm pleased to meet you…"

"Kanbei Sagawa," he said smiling.

The evening was long and cheerful. Maeko and her mother, named Fumiko, served tea and dinner. Rice balls and strew. It was as dinner was coming to an end that Katamori mentioned it. "Goro-san should be here any minute."

"He's in Tokyo?" She asked, sipping the sweet jasmine tea Fumiko had provided.

"Yes," Katamori was smiling hugely.

"I can't wait for him to arrive," Hiroshi ventured, taking a drink of his own tea. Hiroshi wasn't Saito's biggest ally so she found this was surprising, in fact Hiroshi had mentioned several times his dislike for what he called was Saito's superiority complex.

She smiled, but on the inside she was suspicious of the behavior of the men around her. Morinosuke was his oblivious self, Hiroshi was acting extremely excited and so was Katamori, and Kanbei was smoking from a pipe, looking satisfied about something that probably didn't relate to his kiseru. Teru was talking to Ritsuka, Genji's father, who was smiling happily. He didn't appear to be acting and neither did Fumiko and Maeko. So that meant Katamori, Hiroshi, and Kanbei knew something the others didn't, she wasn't even sure Teruhime knew what her brother was planning. Something just didn't make sense here and her rational mind was telling her it had to do with a certain amber eyed Miburo.

A knock made Ritsuka leave the room and at the grins on the three men's faces her eyes narrowed. Indeed some foul play was at work. When she saw Saito she understood why. He was dressed like a police officer, even wearing the hat and gloves. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. He looked…good…in that uniform. He'd cut his topknot off! She officially hated him now.

He bowed to everyone, ignoring the men's snickering. He slipped off his gloves and put his hat under one arm. He sat down and Fumiko set some tea for him, smiling until his cold look wiped it off. "Dare say a word, Morinosuke-san, and you'll lose a limp," Saito growled when her brother opened his mouth. He promptly fell silent.

Saito glared at Katamori, but the former daimyo of Aizu looked unfazed. "Good to see you made it, Goro-kun. I thought you were going to change before coming over…"

"I was planning on it."

Silence…then waiting. Katamori cleared his throat, glancing at Saito. The man looked indifferent. Katamori coughed, giving Saito a look that said he should say something. Saito spoke suddenly, "Good to see you again, Sagawa-san."

Katamori looked like he wanted to choke Saito. Kanbei said a few words in greeting before silence filled the room again. Morinosuke spoke, "Why are we just sitting here?"

He went to stand when the look Saito gave him said he better stay where he was. Morinosuke promptly sat, looking annoyed at being forced into quiet and immovability.

"Goro-kun?" Katamori propped, a vein twitching on his neck.

"…" Saito was silent.

"Goro-kun?" More annoyance in his tone.

"…"

"Katamori-chan," Teru intercepted in annoyance, "What the hell is going on? Is there some secret Wolf boy is supposed to reveal all of a sudden because I'm lost?"

"Me too," she added, confused. What the heck was going on? "When did you join the police department?"

"I talked to Sagawa-san about it and he got me the position." The older man nodded his head in agreement, pulling out his pipe. Saito took out a cigarette and for a while the only noise was the two lighting matches and taking drags. Wait a second…

"Does that mean you'll be living in Tokyo now?"

"Yes." Her heart was bursting with joy. That meant way more time with Saito, but would Yaso really want to move? She wondered how Saito had convinced Yaso.

Saito was twisting his cigarette between his lean figures. He took a drag, "There is something important…" He took another drag, the cigarette moving faster as he fiddled with it.

It crossed her mind than that Saito was acting like a nervous person. Of course nervous and Hajime Saito didn't belong in the same sentence. She started laughing, "You're nervous!"

"No," he snapped the cigarette in half. He threw it into the ashtray and produced another tobacco stick. Everyone else, realizing that Saito was indeed anxious, starting openly laughing at him. Of course, laughing at an apprehensive Miburo was a bad idea and that realization didn't hit anyone until Morinosuke, the first one laughing after Tokio, was on the floor with a bloody nose. "Any one else want to keep laughing? Or would you like to lose some body parts, Morinosuke-san?"

Tokio regarded him coolly, smiling, "Why the heck are you nervous? It's very strange, Goro-san," she said as he sat down.

Morinosuke was glaring daggers at the Wolf as Teru busily inspected his nose. She scoffed, "At least he didn't break it, hm, Moron-san." His glare switched between her and Saito, not looking pleased at the insult and the bloody nose.

He realized his new cigarette, not even lit, had been broken when he stood. He threw it away, but didn't reach for another one. Instead he crossed his arms, closing his eyes. "I have something to ask you, Morinosuke-san."

Morinosuke looked annoyed, "I hate you!"

"Stop being a moron. You deserved it for laughing at me unjustly."

"Humph."

Silence.

A cough from Katamori who looked on edge.

More silence.

"Well? Aren't you going to ask Morinosuke-san something?" Saito's lip twitched slightly at Katamori's words.

"If you won't ask," they all looked at Hiroshi who'd been perfectly quiet until now. "I will. Morinosuke-san will you give your blessing for Tokio-san to marry?"

There was silence. Morinosuke blinked, Tokio stared, Teru coughed, Katamori smiled, Ritsuka nearly choked on his tea, Fumiko nearly fell over when she entered the room, and Maeko looked bothered. Kanbei just took a drag of his cigarette, seeming oblivious. "Didn't I already turn you down, Hiroshi-sama," she asked timidly.

Hiroshi glared, "I'm not the one asking…"

Everyone automatically looked at Saito who'd opened his eyes. He'd dropped into a saikeirei bow. "May I have Tokio-san's hand with your permission and her agreement?"

For a long time the only noise was Teru's laughter and than coughing. "You're teasing us, right?"

No answer was given as Saito just kept his head down. Morinosuke glared then, "No. I will never accept my sister marrying an asshole like you! No way! Ever! You'll have to kill me first! Which you probably would do, you heartless Mibu! My sister would probably kill herself before marrying you! And aren't you married to Yaso-san anyway?"

"Yaso-san granted me a divorce. It was all finalized at the beginning of June."

"What?" She was aware that her face and ears were bright red. The thought that Saito had asked for her hand wasn't unbelievable. Still more unbelievable was the thought that Yaso had divorced Saito. Even more unbelievable than all that was the fact that Saito, proud and arrogant Saito, was bowing in saikeirei to Morinosuke, who he usually treated with disdain. He must really want this, she mused. Her face got redder at the thought that Saito was bowing because of his desire to be married to her.

"You're serious," Morinosuke asked, his voice becoming monotonous. "You really want to marry Tokio-chan?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"That's a stupid question," a vein throbbed on Morinosuke's forehead at the slight. "That's like asking why a flower loves the sun. It's instinctive and unconditionally." When everyone realized that Saito, stoic bastard that he was, had actually said he loved Tokio…that was certainly the most unbelievable thing all day.

"You want to marry Tokio-san?"

"Yes," an annoyed edge had entered Saito usually subdued voice.

"One second," Morinosuke grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room. "I can't believe this," he hissed as they stood in the genkan.

"Morinosuke-chan… You will give your blessing, right?"

"Humph. I don't want to, that's guy's a prick. Any one else and I'd consider it, but that guy?"

"I guess I'm just more surprised Yaso-san divorced him than anything. But this is a good thing because I want to be married to Goro-san. Your blessing brother, please? Father would have given it…"

At the mention of their father Morinosuke, who barely remembered him, sighed. "But why Goro-san? I can't stand him."

"I'm not sorry. At least he likes you, brother."

"How does he act with enemies then? I get to punch him when we go back inside, got that? He deserves it," Morinosuke rolled up the sleeve of his kimono, grinning, "Oh sweet justice…"

She laughed, "So long as you agree to the blessing, but don't get too beat up, eh?"

He gave her a nasty look at doubting him and they went back inside. Morinosuke's attempt to punch Saito had ended in another bloody nose for him. Saito looked calmly at Morinosuke, who was getting his nose looked at by Teru again. "So?"

"So what?"

"Your blessing?"

"Scre―," Tokio's fan hit him on the head, cutting off his swearing. "Fine! You have it, just don't expect to be allowed in my house. I don't let animals inside."

Saito snorted, "That was actually somewhat witty, Morinosuke-san, did you come up with it all by yourself?"

Morinosuke glared at Saito, "Ass."

"I'm a wolf, not a donkey." Did Saito just bust a joke? It seemed improbably so no one laughed, afraid they'd offend him, only Tokio chuckled. "I thought that was funny," Saito remarked dryly, "Remind me never to tell jokes anymore, Tokio-san."

She laughed, "It was bad humor, Goro-san."

He shrugged, "I need a cigarette."

"What about wedding arrangements?"

Saito, looking into an empty pack of cigarettes, merely mumbled. "Katamori-sama is the higher-go between with Kanbei-san and Hiroshi-san the lower-go betweens. Also I secured a place at the Jokakuji temple for the wedding. The date isn't firm yet, but I figured June would be good. The sooner the better in my mind."

She smiled, "Where will we be living?"

Morinosuke was cut off by Saito, "Not with your idiot brother certainly. I was thinking someplace far enough away so that no one here would want to visit daily."

* * *

She sat watching Saito. He'd come to see her at Morinosuke's house. Her brother was out. "Well, do you have a shiromuku?"

"Yes." Her wedding shiromuku had been carefully kept by Morinosuke, in hope that some day his older sister would marry.

"Good," he pulled out a cigarette, watching her with amber orbs as he lit it, the fire of from the match reflected in his eyes. He set the match in the ashtray.

"Why did Yaso-san give you the divorce?"

He blew out smoke, "She's dying." By the look Tokio gave him she hadn't been aware that Yaso was sick. He explained the disease to Tokio, who sat in silence.

"I shouldn't be so happy about the divorce than…"

"It's natural to be happy about it," he took a drag, blowing the smoke from the corner of his mouth. "You shouldn't let Yaso-chan's sickness hinder our wedding plans."

She stared, it was the first time she'd ever heard Saito use -chan with anyone's name. He noticed her reaction, "Don't let Yaso-chan bother you overmuch. She'll die happily, knowing she was not only a samurai's daughter in name but deed. Don't be too sad over it. I'm not."

Her hands clutched, "Yaso-san was a good woman… I didn't give her enough credit. I just thought… Did you love her?"

His face was stoical, "I cared for her well being, but my world goes on without her. It would not be so if it were you dying. Is that satisfactory to your ego?"

"I didn't want to beat her, Goro-san! I just…"

"Want my love all to yourself. Selfish and possessive, but not immoral." She lowered her head, "It is understand to want the person you love so much to notice only you, particularly if you only notice them. I'm glad that you didn't act upon your selfishness, it would have been a complication and would have diminished my respect for you. However you acted as sensible as always. I love that about you, Tokio-san, you always keep your head straight in trying situations where most falter."

She nodded, smiling then, his compliment was endearing. "Thank you," she wondered how the next word would sound, "fiancé."

He snorted, "You're welcome, idiot."

She laughed, getting up to refill his tea cup. She sat down next to him, instead of her usual spot across from him. He stared, "What?"

She was smiling, "I'm happy."

He just stared, taking a drag. "You're acting like that moron brother of yours. Perhaps I should reconsider this? If you turn out to be so stupid on our wedding night, I'm divorcing you the next day, got that, Takagi-san?"

She laughed, "Shut up, Wolf boy!"

"Don't you dare call me that again! Besides only that Matsudaira moron is allowed that. Stop it right now."

"Wolf boy."

"Tokio…"

"Wolf boy."

"Tokio… stop."

"Wolf boy, my darling little Miburo isn't happy. Stop frowning, your face will stay like that."


	20. Chapter 20: Tokyo, 1874, Part 3

So it's the happy day everyone's been waiting for, yeah! Hope you all enjoy this chapter. R&R please.

* * *

Saito watched Tokio. It was June twentieth. Their wedding day. Tokio was donned in her shiromuku, she looked like a tenshi in all that white. He smirked as she approached, her attendant helping her walk in that ridiculously long gown.

The ceremony went by quickly. The purification, the sake drinking, the commitment reading, and the offering to the kami passed by like the blinking of an eye. Only a few relatives attended this part of the wedding, Katamori, Hiroshi, and Kanbei were exceptions because they were the go-betweens. Most of the people he didn't even recognize. It didn't really manner. He was marrying her after all and that was what was important.

The after wedding party was held in a large room of one of the local restaurants Katamori had rented for the evening. He saw a few people he recognized, Hiroshi, Morinosuke, Teruhime, Katamori, a lot of the other people he only knew because of Tokio. Her cousin Hideo Takamine was talking to Morinosuke, he'd only just been told she had a cousin. She'd never mentioned him before. Kurasawa and the others hadn't come from Tonami to attend, but that didn't surprise him. He had a feeling Kurasawa didn't like him anymore.

He had changed out of his wedding clothing and into a black kimono. Tokio had changed into a more colorful kimono and rearranged her hair style. She looked delicious. Even more appealing than the food before him and he was more than a little eager for tonight. He wondered if she was getting more nervous as the night progressed.

Katamori had gotten several people to sing for them. They sounded idiotic and looked even stupider, likely they were drunk. The evening was winding down, thankfully for his nerves.

"Tokio-san?" He whispered to her.

"Yes, husband?" She was smiling and he found her calling him husband to be too formal.

"I hope you're not going to always call me husband. I'd prefer Goro. When can we leave?"

"I like calling you husband. It's interesting…besides I thought I'd never get the chance so let me indulge myself tonight, hm? I promise that after tonight I'll only occasionally refer to you as husband. Oh…you want to leave so soon?"

"The sooner the better."

"Don't be so cold. I want you to meet my cousins before we go anywhere. Hideo is talking to Morinosuke and I think Kachiro is talking to Teru. Kachiro Numazawa is a cousin on my mother's side while Hideo is on my father's side."

"I wasn't aware you had so many family members living."

"I've mentioned Hideo, haven't I?"

"I don't recall him coming up until now."

"Likely you don't remember because you didn't think you'd ever meet him. You tend to forget things you don't consider important enough to remember."

His lip twitched, "You never mentioned him. I would remember that."

"Fine," her tone and face were mocking him. He narrowed his eyes at her, glaring.

"Goro-kun, don't glare at your own wife like that," Katamori scolding, coming to where they were seated.

"She deserves it," he growled.

"Your guests think you hate your wife," Katamori chuckled in bemusement.

"Stop glaring," Teruhime said as she appeared like an apparition, "I just heard someone say they think you'll be an abusive husband."

"Let them think what they like. They should sympathize with me, not her. She's a witch in disguise."

"And you're a Wolf, husband," he glared at her ferociously as she smiled.

"Good to see your well, Saito-kun," they stared in surprise at the man standing behind Katamori and his sister. Below his right eye a barely noticeable scar, brown eyes, short choppy brown hair, and standing at about 4' 11'. Saito would recognize that Shinsengumi captain anywhere.

He glared, "Shinpachi."

"Good to see you're still joyless."

"Humph. I don't have time to waste talking to deserters like you. My wedding guests are more important."

"Katamori-san, long time no see."

"I thought you were in Hokkaido."

"I was. I heard an old friend of mine was getting married so I came to visit. Not that he probably thinks I'm a friend… What's with the nasty name, eh, Saito-kun? I'm no deserter."

"You deserted the Shinsengumi," was all Saito elaborated. Tokio glanced at him in confusion. She didn't know much about the second captain of the Shinsengumi Shinpachi Nagakura, but she hadn't heard that he'd deserted the Shinsengumi.

"Shut up! I didn't," a vein was throbbing on Nagakura's forehead.

"It was after Kofu you left. Hijikata-san told everyone you and Harada deserted out of fear of the Imperialists."

"What!" The man looked ruffled at that, "No way would I be afraid of some Meiji dogs! Is it true," his eyes blazed, "that you joined the police force?"

"Yes."

"And you call me the traitor? Seems you're the one on the wrong side, Saito-kun."

"It's Goro Fujita now, Nagakura-san."

"Fujita? Stupid name."

"I resent that, I'm the one who gave it to him," Katamori looked insulted.

"You can call me Yoshie Sugimura now."

"Oh? Deserter had to protect himself from assassins?"

"I'm not a deserter and I swear if you call me that again you'll lose your head!"

"Deserter," he smiled smugly.

Nagakura exploded, drawing the wakizashi at his waist. He hadn't brought his katana with. Saito's hand went for his katana, but Tokio stopped him. "What is the meaning of this woman?" His gold eyes weren't ones she recognized. They were the eyes of a Shinsengumi captain from the Bakumatsu era. Nagakura was crouched down, waiting for Saito to pounce over the table at him.

No one moved. Tokio's hand firmly on Saito's while his grasped the hilt of his katana. Nagakura frozen in concentration on Saito's movements. "There will be no fighting on my wedding night, Sugimura-san. Put your sword away," she knew there was no begging, pleading, or distracting amusement that might turn them aside. A steady commanding authority was needed to halt this madness. Death was not something she'd allow at her own wedding. "Sugimura-san!" His sword lowered and his stance relaxed.

He bowed, "Forgive me, it's improper of a guest to fight, particularly the groom. My apologizes, Fujita-san. Saito-kun is just frustrating sometimes. Private fights are against the code."

Saito's grip slowly loosened, realizing the threat was voided. "Humph."

"Perhaps," Nagakura said as he turned his back to them. "You wouldn't mind joining me for some sake? I'm staying at the Yagi residence. You remember where that is from our Shinsengumi days? See ya, Saito-kun." He disappeared out the shoji. She glanced at her husband, his face and eyes were much calmer now that Nagakura was gone. He was even smirking.

They were walking silently to their new house. It was located in the Hongo area, near the Women's Higher Normal School.

"Goro-chan," she ventured, knowing she'd never called him -chan before. She thought it sounded funny, "Do you like the idea of me working?"

"Hm."

"I need an actual answer, hm doesn't cut it. Do you or not? I think Hideo's proposal that I work for the Women's Higher Normal School is a brilliant idea. It would not only mean something to do in the day for me and an income, but while you're away for work I'd have company… Do you dislike the idea?"

"If it makes you happy I'm not opposed."

"You don't care that I'm a woman working?"

"No. Just because women are inferior physically, Tokio-san, doesn't mean they can't work. It is up to you, but know this. If I want solitude and privacy in my house I'll get it. Keep a tight lease on the women who will move in, got it? I don't want any stupid girls who can't mind themselves while under our hospitality."

She smiled, "Thank you for being so understanding, husband."

"Oh and Tokio-san?"

"Hm?"

"Just because we're married doesn't mean I want you using -chan with me. Use -san in public, my name in private, and husband never again."

She chuckled, she could humor him a little, especially when it ensured safety. "Fine, Hajime-san."

"Goro-san. We're in public." Even though there was no one nearby. "And how many times must I remind you not to use that name?"

"But Nagakura-san used it in front of everyone…"

"That man's a moron. Don't copy him."

"Fine, Goro-san," she rolled her eyes, "But I can call you by your old name when we're alone, right?"

"I said so."

"I wasn't sure if you meant Goro-san or the other one."

"Humph."

"Why are you humphing me? What did I do wrong?"

"You're being stupid."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"I want a divorce."

"You'd deprive me of my first night with you? How cruel. That's the only reason I married a witch like you." He noted the red in her cheeks at his words and smiled with amusement. "Don't blush too much at the thought. It will be beyond your wildest imaginations." Her face turned redder at his implications, "I don't work tomorrow…so we have all tonight and tomorrow. Of course I'll be back to work in the morning, but I think tonight and tomorrow will satisfy my curiosity."

"Your curiosity?"

"For such a smart woman you've no common sense. I plan to make up for those three years without you in my futon." Her eyes widened at his words, he smirked viciously, "Three years was too long of a wait in my book."

"Uh… Goro-san?"

"Yes?"

"Did Shinpachi Nagakura-san really desert the Shinsengumi?" She knew it was a gamble, asking about the Shinsengumi and expecting an answer from Saito. He usually evaded questions involving his former comrades.

"Depends on how you look at it I guess. He still helped in the Boshin Wars, only he wasn't Shinsengumi anymore and he had his own band of loyal minions. I don't consider him a deserter because he never gave up Aku Soku Zan. If you hated everyone who changed sides during those days or formed their own groups you'd have more enemies than fingers to count them on. Harada Sanosuke-san left with Nagakura-san, but left his group too. He joined up with some Edo people or something. I wasn't very interested in the details. I just like to call Nagakura-san that because it gets to him. Nagakura-san has always been quick to anger. He's amusing when he's pissed."

"So you were goading him the whole time? Didn't you consider he'd draw his wakizashi?"

"Briefly, but I thought he had more sense. Not only is that inconsiderate behavior at a wedding, but private fights is forbidden by Shinsengumi law."

"Shinsengumi law?"

He blinked at her unflinchingly, "Yes. Hijikata-san wrote them. Strict binding regulations to control the unruly mostly pleasant class of the Shinsengumi. Anyone, including Hijikata-san, there were no preferences, would be punished with seppuku. 1) Deviating from Bushido, 2) Leaving the Shinsengumi, 3) Raising money privately, 4) Taking part in other's litigations, 5) Engaging in private fights. Three more rules strictly followed included, a) If the leader of a unit is mortally wounded in a fight, all the members of the unit must fight and die on the spot, b) Even in a fight where the death toll is high, it is not allowed to retrieve the bodies of the dead, except the corpse of the leader of the unit, and c) If a Shinsengumi member engages in a fight with a stranger, be it on duty or not, if he is wounded and can't kill the enemy, allowing him to run away, even in case of a wound in the back, seppuku is ordered."

Her eyes were wide, "What?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"I can't believe the last three. They seem extremely harsh."

He shrugged, "The regulations were hard ones to follow. Bushido was expected, we were to personify that to the people. Number three is easy to understand, many of the members of the Mibu Roshi, our name before Aizu officially bestowed the name Shinsengumi, took to using force to get money, particularly Kamo Serizawa. Four makes equal sense because Hijikata-san's concern was that some men might use force to sway lawsuits. Five and two are self evident."

"But the last one? Not being able to kill an enemy? How is it honorable to be forced to commit seppuku because of failure to kill your opponent?"

"You do not understand, Tokio-san, the dishonor that comes with not killing your opponent. To fail to kill evil can only be redeemed through death."

"But―."

"There is no but, no what ifs. To fail to kill and to survive, even if you are attacked in an underhanded manner or by multiply opponents, is shameful. Death through combat is preferred; escaping to save your own worthless life is dishonorable. Seppuku merely got rid of the unnecessary weaklings in the Shinsengumi."

"Oh."

"If the leader of a unit is mortally wounded all members of the unit must fight and die. If all the opponents were dead, seppuku was optional. It proved the loyalty of the unit. The manpower lost if a captain died was disagreeable so units usually took great care to protect the captain's lives. In a fight only the corpse of the leader of the unit may be retrieved. Again it shows a display of loyalty, not only to the leader, but to Bushido and honor. The regulations were not for everyone and many were forced to commit seppuku. Joining the Shinsengumi without being aware of the regulations was stupidity. Many weak willed men tried to desert."

"I thought…"

"What?"

She ducked her head a little, "You said Nagakura-san deserted…"

"Desertion wasn't allowed, but sometimes leaving was allowed, it was just rare. Ito Kashitaro left the Shinsengumi only because he had permission from the government. Also when Nagakura-san left we were little more than Shinsengumi in name. Hijikata-san allowed their departure, there was little else we could do, we lacked manpower if we allowed them to commit seppuku. For a time I was upset with the decision, one should never turn against the code, particularly in times of crisis, but I accepted it after a conversation I had with Hijikata-san. He had a solid reasoning for it. Also I left the Shinsengumi for a time myself."

She gaped, "What?"

He chuckled at her look, "I deflected to Ito Kashitaro's group shortly after his departure in April, 1867. He was given imperial permission to guard the tomb of Emperor Komei, it was that and that alone that allowed his freedom. Ito was friendly to the Shinsengumi for a while after that, but we already knew he was talking to Satsuma forces. On November twentieth Ito planned to assassinate Kondo, but I bailed out of the group under some pretenses and alerted Kondo of the plot. Ito came to a meeting with Kondo on November eighteenth and on his way home Shinsengumi member Oishi Kuwajiro mortally wounded him with a spear. Ito committed seppuku at a nearby temple after he got away."

The look on Saito's face said he was recalling those days. She saw the taut shoulders, the hard frown to his lips, and the slowing down of his usually brisk pace. "I was not present during the attack on Ito… I did not like the idea of attacking my opponent underhandedly like that. Kondo-san and Hijikata-san felt that it was a necessity evil. If it had been me I would have fought Ito fairly, no attacks from the dark of the night without his knowing. Harada-san told everyone that it had been a fair fight, but Harada-san will say what he likes to ensure no smearing of the Shinsengumi name. We did not always do honorable things, we had to balance a delicate line between Bushido and staying alive in those days. The Bakumatsu allowed great evil to existence and we strove not to become that evil. The Choshu and Satsuma were far more underhanded than us, but I suppose I'm biased." He chuckled dryly, "We were Miburo, no doubt about that. Even Wolves like us, no matter how honorable, would fight viciously for survival."

He smirked, "I think I've had too much sake." He hadn't drunk enough sake that his words should be incautious like this, so free flowing. She frowned as he stopped walking, "Tokio-san."

They were near the Hongo ward where their house was located. A few more blocks and they'd be within sight of their home. She frowned, "Goro-san? Why are we stopping?"

"You've never asked me about any evil I might have done during my Shinsengumi days."

She was silent, "You and evil only belong in the same sentence if it's about you slaying it."

He slid both arms around her waist. She stared at his face as his strong arms tightened around her. "Tokio-san… You're so…trusting. You need to stop that. Trust no one, particularly me. I did evil back than. I believe you purposed the question to Okubo-san. 'Would you kill an inn owner for harboring Bakufu knowingly?' His answer was yes, but then you asked 'Would you kill a citizen merely spending the night there?' Sometimes there was no time to ask questions, sometimes I killed innocent citizens…their deaths weigh heavy on me…it is the only remorse I know…not all citizens are good though, some husbands beat their wives, some sell drugs, some do drugs, etc, and I take some comfort knowing that. I hope rather stupidly that the citizens I've killed weren't innocent…that I'm free from blame…yet I know I still have killed at least a handful of citizens as innocent as you, Tokio-san…. I regret killing the people who were as good as you."

His lips were parted a little and there was a furrow line on his forehead. His eyes glowed golden brown as his bangs swayed by the light trickle of wind. Several bangs of her own moved lazily across her vision, some brushing her face, others touching her kimono collar. He smirked, reaching one hand up to brush them behind her ear. "Tokio-san, tell me. Would I be as good as you if I'd never joined the Shinsengumi?"

Before she could reply though he pressed his lips to hers, stopping anything she might have said. It was a soft kiss, affectionate and tender, barely felt against her chapped lips. In fact she wasn't so sure it had happened. "Goro-san," she breathed, excited at the unexpected turn of events. She wasn't wholly disappointed about her first kiss in fact. She was only disappointed that it was so short.

"Let's go home." The short walk to their house was silent. She glanced at his face, noting the usual indifference. She felt her stomach lunge. Had he meant those words? Had he really felt remorse and had he really killed innocents?

She took off her geta and shoved them into the getabako. Saito silently took off his zori and put them away, sliding effortlessly into some slippers. She followed after him into the house. The living area bore only a little similarity to its name, it was almost completely bear. Not that it surprised her any, they didn't have much that needed moving. Two boxes full of household items were pushed against a wall. Two futons lay beside each other in nearly the middle of the room. She did feel a little tired, but she knew better than to expect sleep on their wedding night.

Saito went over to the futon and she hesitated in joining him. He took off his haori and started on his thin brown obi. He noticed her standing shyly by the entrance. He snorted, "Get over here, Tokio."

She smiled at his use of just her name, "Coming, husband."

He glared as she approached. She sat down seiza before the futon and started pulling out the pins in her hair. She knew her hands were shaking, but she was nervous. Didn't she have good reason to be considering she was about to have a Wolf maul her? Saito was undressing behind her, she could hear the rustle of fabric. She didn't dare turn to see if he was completely undressed. "You know," Saito drawled, "Yaso-chan wasn't a virgin."

She swiveled her head so fast in his direction she was surprised it didn't snap off. "What?" He was safely wearing his hakama still.

He looked pleased with her response, "She'd had at least one man before me. In fact I was rather surprised by her…skill at pleasuring."

Her face went red. She lowered her head, feeling silly. She wouldn't compare to Yaso or even Aioi Tayu. She would disappoint him tonight. "What's wrong with you? I tell you news that should please you and you react poorly. What did I say?"

"Yaso-san was experienced, I'm not…I'll just…"

He snorted, "Dear god you're a pain," she stared as he knelt down beside her. "Yaso-chan not being a virgin was dishonorable and all you think about it is the fact that she had experience? Bah! Come here," he pulled her into his arms, "I'd rather my wife be a shy blushing virgin than the biggest whore in Tokyo."

She flushed as his lips captured hers for a kiss as chaste as the first. He pulled back and his every movement became intent on untying her obi. Her face went bright red and she fumbled for words, finding none forthcoming she fell into a half ecstasy, half anxious state as she watched him.

She put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles there. How strong he is, her dear husband, and how broad his shoulders. She buried her face in his kimono, inhaling his scent of smoke. She'd never liked the scent before him and she still found it distasteful, but she liked it because it reminded her of him. His smirking lips when he took a drag and blew it out, his blazing eyes.

She gave a grasp as his hands parted her kimono's folds, her obi lying disregarded on the floor. The air was cold and she shivered as he pushed her kimono to the floor. Freezing in her juban she held his eyes as he pushed it off too. She shuddered, wanting the warmth the clothing had provided. He turned back to himself, quickly gliding out of his hakama. She lay down, cuddling with the blankets, her body cold. She glanced at him, he was working off his fundoshi. She turned red and buried her face into the clean fresh smelling blankets.

"Tokio, I'm cold, move your ass."

She made room for him, her shoulders tense as he settled beside her. She felt his hand first, just the lightest touch against her spine. It trailed down her upper back to her lower back, removing a second later. She inhaled sharply as his lips silently pressed to her right shoulder. She exhaled as he kissed her flesh, his left hand pulled her down onto the futon. She gave a squawk as he positioned himself on top of her. He was smirking violently, "This will be the worst night of your life, my dear, prepare yourself for your torture. You shall wish I'd killed you instead."

She snorted, putting on an arrogant attitude and said, imitating him, "I'm Miburo I can stand anything! Blah, blah, blah, arrogant prick, blah blah blah my ego is ten times my size."

He humphed, but his eyes were shinning with amusement. "Tokio, I've never regretted much, but this I fear will be the one thing I wish I'd not considered." He kissed her and she smiled. Her Miburo would wish for death first, once he realized he'd married not a flower but a witch.

* * *

Japanese words to know this chapter:

Kami-spirits of the Shinto faith

Tenshi-Angel


	21. Chapter 21: Tokyo, 1874, Part 4

"How can you stand being married to him?" She'd always heard Haruna, Satsuki, and Amane ask Yaso that question so it threw her for a second when Teru asked it to her.

She laughed, "He's really a dear man, Teru-sama."

"Doubtful," she sipped her tea. Teru had gotten her, Maeko, and three other women she'd introduced as Yukino Kagome, Akahana Kawaguchi, and Itsuko Mori to get together for tea. She was starting to regret coming.

Yukino laughed, "So what's it like being married to a Shinsengumi Wolf?"

She glared at Teru who chuckled, "I couldn't resist telling them, besides I figure the ladies should know Goro-san's a villain."

"Humph."

"Don't tell me he has you humphing everything now?"

"Shut up, Teru-sama."

"And your manners are as deplorable as his now."

"What's he like," asked Yukino, ignoring Teru.

"Goro-san works a lot," she ventured for the ladies' benefits. "He likes order and neatness in the house. I have to put things back in the right order or he gets a little annoyed." She still remembered one morning how annoyed he'd gotten when he couldn't find the wash basin after she'd moved it. He'd complained about his work clothes being sullied and had stalked off when she'd just yawned and gone back to bed. Later she'd found him outside cleaning his bloody clothes in a cooking pan, mumbling about stupid wife's moving things and not telling their husbands.

"Sounds like he's hard to live with," Akahana said.

"Is he violent," Itsuko asked. Tokio wasn't certain if Itsuko was tired or if her face just made her look it.

"No. Why would you suggest that?"

"Some husbands are," Teru said, "I'm surprised Goro-san isn't."

"Teru-sa―."

"Good to see you have such faith in me, ugly," Saito remarked, sitting down beside her.

"Don't call me ugly, Wolf boy!"

"Don't call me Wolf boy and I'll consider it."

Teru glared at him for a long time, crossing her arms, "Kill anybody recently, you bloodthirsty murderer?"

He snorted, reaching for her white tea and drinking it. She smiled, he was in for a surprise. He coughed, stared at the tea in surprise, set it down, and pulled out a cigarette.

"Just earlier today I killed an obnoxious woman who was harassing me. I'm considering doing so again," he gave Teru his most charming smirk.

"Why you ill mannered…" several foul words that do not need repeating passed from Teru's lips aimed at the Miburo.

"I don't like white tea," Saito remarked out of no where, "Waitress, fletch me some oolong tea please."

"You actually said please, Goro-stupid."

"Yes that was witty," he rolled his eyes at Teru's words. Their little banter continued until they left. She arranged her shawl, glancing at the dark clouds on the horizon. Would it rain, she wondered with excitement.

"Teru-san is easy prey to bother. In fact she's almost too easy to annoy."

"You treat her like a younger sister," she muttered as he glared at her, looking offended. "Will you walk home with me? Or do you have night patrol?" She hadn't gotten the chance to ask him his night time shifts as his patrols changed every week.

"I don't work so I suppose. Are we having soba tonight?"

She glared, "I'm sick of wheat noodles. We're having tempura."

"I'm eating out."

"Goro-san, don't you dare. Are you insulting my cooking?"

"No. Your tempura is good compared to others I've tried, but I don't like tempura as much as I do soba."

She glared harder at his indifferent expression, "You will turn into a soba noodle if that's all you eat. You're not going to a restaurant and that's that. Come and try my tempura. I'll even use shrimp."

"No thanks, I'll just stop at the soba place on the way."

She glared, "Fine, Mr. Won't-eat-anything-but-stupid-soba. I'll make tensoba!"

He smirked, "I knew you'd cave before me, Tokio-san, you're more considerate. I promise I'll make this up to you later tonight." She blushed as Saito walked faster, clearly eager for his stupid soba. She had to admit she was happier in these past several months than she ever remembered being in the rest of her life. She loved Saito, despite his stupid obsession with soba. She wondered if he loved soba more than her as she ran to keep up with his long strides.

* * *

The girl blushed and bowed, looking like a small porcelain doll. He rolled his eyes, Tokio had overdone herself now. The girl, Mariko, was a scared thing and looked like a mouse. How had such a girl decided to become a teacher? She was dressed rather shabbily and he had the sneaking idea she came from poor parents.

"I'm pleased to meet Tokio-sama's husband. I hope my stay here will not hinder you in any way and if I may be of service please inform me." From her speech she was probably from the Tosa clan.

"Are you from Kochi or the nearby area?" The Tosa province's capital.

She looked very startled, "Yes, Fujita-san… I'm from a farming family near Kochi."

"Hm. As long as you're not Choshu." He chuckled at her bewildered look, "Don't mind me… I'm getting old."

Tokio protested, "You're only thirty-one, that's not old at all. Katamori-sama's well into his forties."

"You're confused, Tokio-san," he saw Mariko's surprised look. Clearly she'd been expecting the affectionate -chan, she would soon find Saito deviated from a lot of the expected. "Katamori-san is not even forty. He's thirty eight. I'm going to take a bath, call for me when the soba's ready."

"I told you we're having miso soup today because I'm sick of soba. Screw soba," she could hear him chuckling as he walked to the bathhouse. "Stop laughing!"

"I'm going out to eat if that's the case," they heard from a distance.

"Don't you dare disrespect our guest, Goro!"

"Leave me alone, woman, I want to bath in peace."

"Where's your katana?"

"Why?" There was a sneaking tone of concern.

"Because if you don't come to dinner tonight your next bath will result in you swimming in your own body parts!"

They heard a chuckle. Tokio glared at the shoji, turning on her heel she disappeared into the kitchen. Mariko just looked at a lost. "Would you mind helping me, Mariko-chan?"

She blinked, "Sure. Your husband's an interesting…eh…man, Tokio-sama."

"Wolf is more like it, Mariko-chan."

* * *

Japanese Words for this chapter:

Tempura-seafood and vegetables that have been battered and deep fried

Tensoba-soba with tempura over it and hot, dark broth made from dashi (cooking stock used in miso soup, clear broth soups, noodle broths, and simmering liquids), soy sauce, and more. Shrimp tempura and soba is the most common form.


	22. Chapter 22: Tokyo, 1874, Part 5

So this chapter and the last one are more fluff than anything, lol. Thanks for the reviews reader, Illegitimi, and t42n24t2. I've passed twenty chapters, yes!

* * *

That girl was annoying, he thought viciously, sitting outside on the porch. She'd been here for almost a month and had so far followed all the rules he'd laid down. 1) No bothering him or Tokio after nine (he would not be interrupted while enjoying the only time he got his wife to shut up about the soba thing), 2) No loud noises when he was home (he could only stand gossiping for five minutes without going crazy), and 3) No shameful behavior, including but not limited to coming back here drunk, bringing loud obnoxious drunk friends over, and no suitors were allowed within a five mile radius.

As much as he found Nariko to be accommodating he didn't trust the girl to keep her legs closed for a handsome suitor. It didn't seem that was a problem though. Mariko didn't appear to have any suitors, she wasn't extremely attractive so it made sense. Still though, rules were there in case any event should arise. He wasn't sure this problem fell into the rules and was wracking his brain on how he could change that. Would he need to add a rule?

She liked him…she liked him more than was appropriate and he was nervous. Not only did her behavior utterly befuddle him, but he knew Tokio, usually observant woman that she was, was oblivious to this transgression and he hoped it remained that way. His wife would not be happy to think that her first student staying with them had a crush on her husband.

He couldn't understand it. What had he done to get Mariko to treat him like this? She hung on his every word, followed him into town on his days off, stared at him insistently, and he found it annoying to turn his head and always see her there. He was wondered what his wife's reaction would be when she found out. Would she kick Mariko out and yell at him?

But what could he do? Mariko was a nice girl, but he was happily married and he wasn't interested at all. Had he showed her some sort of favor? He couldn't remember being overly nice to her. A few words here or there, but nothing concrete.

She must be crazy, he reckoned, nodding his head. He smiled to himself, remembering how Tokio had stayed away from him the first couple meetings, but had quickly warmed to him. Could he just tell the Tokio he didn't want her here? No. Tokio would just tell him to stick it out, unless she knew his reasoning.

Tokio was completely different from this mousy self-conscious girl who wanted to teacher. Tokio was elegant where Mariko was clumsy. She was savvy and intelligently witty where Mariko was fumbling for every word. He saw the girl Mariko was and saw that she had the potential to become a woman as educated and well rounded as his Tokio. Mariko just needed Tokio's guidance to mature into a good woman. It was a shame the girl was being so obsessive over him.

He pulled out a cigarette and his matches, nearly jumping out of his skin when Mariko sat down next to him. "Where's Tokio-san?"

"She went to visit a friend," her words were shy and she blushed like a school girl would at her crush. He felt annoyed, taking a drag of the cigarette he lit.

He frowned, glancing out at the street. Several citizens walked past to their destinations, parents played with children, and an old man down three houses was smoking from a kiseru and playing Go with a younger man who was likely his son. A woman was hanging laundry out to dry while her kids ran in and out of the house, playing a game of some sort.

"Don't you have anything to do…?" He let the implication hang in the air, hoping she'd picked up on the fact that he wanted to be alone.

Mariko was smart in some ways, but she lacked common sense. "No… Do you have work?"

He glared at her, "Do I look dressed for work?"

She blushed, "I guess not." Twit, he took a drag, trying to ignore the fact that she was too close for comfort. Damn…how did one get rid of any admirer? He'd never been in such a situation before and found this harder work than spying on people.

"Listen, Mariko-kun," he saw her shoulders slump when he used -kun instead of -san. Good, he'd let her think he saw her as only a child, better to diffuse this situation before Tokio got back. Better that this girl knew he'd never even consider being unfaithful. Heck if he hadn't cheated on Yaso with Tokio he wasn't planning on cheating on Tokio with a nobody. "I..." She was looking at him with puppy dog eyes, but he found them annoying rather than endearing. Not even Tokio's cute puppy dog eyes worked on him. "I find you…eh…helpful around the house. Thank you…"

Damn. He'd chickened out. He was always frank with people, always spoke his mind and usually did so without hesitation. He just didn't want her to start crying on him. That would be unbearable. He took a drag, chewing on the right words to let her know he wasn't interested.

"Thank you for noticing my efforts, Goro-sama," one eye twitched. Since when had she started calling him -sama? He felt bothered by that and opened his mouth to set her straight when Tokio's humming met his ears. He glanced up to see his wife coming up the road with a basket under her arm.

"I brought some fish in the market. No soba tonight," the look she gave him said she was serious. He smirked, fine he'd allow it if only because he felt bad for not getting Mariko off his back.

* * *

"Tokio?"

"Hm, Hajime? I'm cold," she snuggled closer to him, trying to steal his body heat.

"Tokio?"

"What?"

"I'm scared."

"Huh? What could you possibly be scared of? Your Hajime Saito, Shinsengumi Third Unit Captain…stop teasing. I'm going back to bed."

"I'm serious. Scared is a bad word, but she is starting to creep me out."

"Who?" She looked more awake.

"Mariko. I think she likes me…"

"That's surprising," she yawned, rolling onto her side. "Just don't scare her off, eh? I think it's good that our first tenet likes you. I thought she'd be scared of your villain like attributes."

He glared, "I didn't mean…as a friend. I meant as in she wants me."

Tokio snorted, "Shut up, Hajime…you need better jokes."

* * *

"So she didn't believe you?" Katamori sipped his tea, looking pensive. "Really, Goro-san, if you hadn't showed me the girl and her reactions to you I wouldn't have believed either."

"Are you saying I'm not attractive?"

"Eh?" Katamori smiled, looking a little nervous. "Not at all. I'm just saying…you're…eh...intimidating. Particularly to young females."

"Hm," Saito's narrowed eyes watched Katamori with misgiving, but he spoke mildly. "So what should I do? How do I get her to back off?"

"Hm…" Katamori looked thoughtful, "I don't know. Why are you asking me? You should talk to Teru-chan, she'd know."

* * *

Teru laughed boisterously, shaking her head resulted in her bira bira twinkling violently. "I can't believe Tokio-san would marry your pig headed ass, much less that a young girl would want to willingly throw herself at your feet. You're just being egoistical now, Wolf boy."

He glared at her, why had he listened to Katamori? That man didn't know shit and Teru knew less. He stood to go, too agitated to want to stay.

"You're serious?"

He glared evilly, "When am I ever not?"

"Oh crap," he sat back down and she reached over and hit him on the arm. "Don't you dare be unfaithful! You hear me you―." He blocked out most of her words and found that after five minutes of this verbal abuse he'd had enough again. He went to go, but she stopped him again. "Wait I can help!"

He raised a brow cautiously, "Should I trust your intelligence though?"

She glared, "Shut it, Goro-san. Now sit and I'll help you lose this girl. Not that you should need much help…you already have the asshole part down."

* * *

"Listen Mariko-kun," he began, the girl looking eagerly up at him. Tokio was inside preparing soba or at least she better be, he'd need those noodles after this. They were almost as nerve relaxing as his cigarettes. "I don't want," she was standing way too close for comfort and he had the strange idea that she thought he'd planned to…eh…yuck…

"Hm, Goro…" Tokio came around the house, seeing them she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes went to Mariko and then to him. He became annoyed, surely she wasn't thinking anything inappropriate. She better not.

He smoked outside, Tokio had sent Mariko out to town and he knew why. He was merely waiting for his wife to come outside and start the conversation. When the shoji behind them didn't budge he snubbed out his cigarette and went in. She wasn't in the living area or the kitchen when he checked. He frowned, going to their bedroom. Dear god was she acting like a stupid twit over that Mariko idiot.

"Tokio?" He knocked in annoyance and pushed open the shoji. She better not be crying damn it.

She looked up in surprise at his sudden appearance. "Hajime?" She'd been folding the laundry. He blinked as she went back to folding one of his kimonos.

"About Mariko…."

"What about her?"

"There is nothing going on."

She laughed, "I didn't think there was, Hajime koishii."

He glared, "Mariko is annoying. Can we kick her out?"

"That's inconsiderate. I'll talk to the housing coordinator at the school and see if she can't move in with some other housemaster. Don't worry about her little 'admiration' of you. It will be nixed readily enough by distance and other boys."

He went and helped her fold one of his hakama. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, a little too happy that a resolution had been so easy. "Tokio?"

"Hm?" She was humming a small tune under her breath, smoothing out the wrinkles and creasing the clothes.

"How come you're not more concerned?"

"Why should I be? I trust you to not be unfaithful."

He blinked, "I've told you countless times not to trust me."

She snorted, "Doesn't mean I've listened. Besides you know you like me trusting you. Now since Mariko will be gone for a while…" She set down the kimono and smiled mischievously, "Why don't we…um…"

He glared, "Are you―." His words were interrupted by her kiss. Maybe she really did trust him. He knew she shouldn't, but a part of him…a part of him enjoyed her trust, her certainty in him. It made that warmth in his chest called love burst with renewed vigor. Goddamn his stupid wife. Why did she make him love her so? He was getting soft in these peaceful times. What would Nagakura and the rest of the Shinsengumi think of the once fearsome Wolf he'd been being so easily tamed by a smiling pretty woman? Eh…They'd never find out and he'd make sure of that.


	23. Chapter 23: Tokyo, 1875, Part 1

Shinsengumi in flashbacks is always appealing, lol. I hope I portrayed Hijikata as the stern in a loving manner way, R&R thank you.

* * *

Saito came home to find the new student staying at their house busy scrubbing the floors. Ever since Mariko's departure the school had been a little reluctant to hand over a new pupil right away, but Tokio's constant pressuring had been enough apparently to secure them one. She was brown haired and wore a green kimono. He was just hoping this new girl wasn't as crazy at that Mariko girl.

"Girl where's my wife?"

"Huh," she turned, saw him, and nearly screamed out loud in fear.

He rolled his eyes, "Where's Tokio-san?"

She pointed in the direction of the toilet. He frowned, "Tokio-san? I'm home, where's my soba?" She usually had dinner ready for the brief lunch he was allowed in between paperwork at the department and patrols.

"God damn you, Goro!" Tokio came into the room, her kimono and juban were askew upon her frame, her hair falling in a mess around her pale sloping shoulders. He found her flushed face and disarrayed manner arousing. She looked good… His mind was going toward futon time when Tokio glared and declared, "I hate you!"

He chuckled, "What did I do now?"

"Child!" She screamed and pressing a hand to her mouth disappeared into the toilet room. He frowned, realized what she'd just said, glanced at the girl on the floor, noticed the substance she was cleaning, and looked back to where Tokio had just run off into. He could hear gagging sounds.

His eyes went wide a second and then narrowed, "Don't tell me you're...we're…going to have a child?"

There was no response from the room. He looked at the kneeling girl who blushed and went back to cleaning. He went to the shoji and joined his wife in the small compartment. "Child?"

"Yes."

"I hate children."

"It's your fault."

"Why is it my fault? You enjoyed our vigorous exercises too, Tokio, don't blame the baby problem on me."

She began heaving again and he watched her lean over, expelling brownish yellow liquid and remnants of food. He made a face, nasty. He left her alone and went back out into the living area.

He knelt in seiza before the alcove. A child eh…that would definitely take away any spending money they now had. Would he need a promotion at work or would his and Tokio's combined income be enough for three and that girl? He frowned, he disliked babies…he'd never thought such a problem like this would arise…how did one treat babies? The only young children he'd been exposed to had been because of Okita…

"_This is Saito-kun," Okita said as he came over to where Saito was standing, holding a little baby in his arms._

"_Cute!" Sanosuke declared when he saw the bundle Okita was holding._

"_Obnoxious," he snapped when it saw him and started crying._

"_What's with the baby?" Nagakura asked as he, Mikisaburo, and Heisuke appeared._

"_I picked him up," Okita said, smiling at the little creature in his arms._

"_Babies are nasty things," Suzuki Mikisaburo mumbled, looking at the pale baby face that peeked out of the blanket._

"_My sentiments exactly," Saito agreed._

"_Whose baby is that," they all turned to the voice of Kondo with Hijikata menacing behind him._

"_Eh, Okita got pregnant?" Heisuke chuckled._

"_That would explain Okita's feminine looks certainly, Todo-san," Sanosuke said with a laugh._

"_Very funny, men. Is that the baby from the Yagi residence?"_

"_No…" Okita chirped, "It's mine."_

"_Souji-san," Hijikata said, "don't be insolent. Whose baby is that and I want a reasonable answer this time. No wise cracks," he gave a malicious look at Todo and Harada. Todo whistled nervously, cramming his arms into his kimono sleeves, pointedly ignoring Hijikata's vicious look. Harada looked less composed, running one hand through his brown hair and looking anywhere but in the direction of Hijikata._

_Okita smiled almost nervously, imagining that this was the Spanish Inquisition and Hijikata was the menacing torturer. He took a breath, stared at the imposing Vice-commander waiting impatiently for his reply, and took off running. He didn't get far as a hand grabbed the collar of his kimono. He was lifted effortlessly off his feet and his brown eyes connected for the first time levelly with gold orbs._

"_Saito-kun?"_

"_It that baby Yagi's? You shouldn't be messing with him like he's some kind of toy. I'd return him if I was you. The code forbids running away from an enemy."_

_Okita laughed as Saito set him back on his feet, "Hijikata-sama's not the enemy…" The look the demon Vice-commander was giving him said otherwise though. Okita smiled, "I'll return little akachan in a moment. I was using him for something…"_

"_What?" Demanded Hijikata as Kondo shook his head._

_Okita blushed, "Nothing to worry about. Yagi's wife said I could take him out… Don't look at me like that, Hijikata-sama…"_

"_Take him back immediately. Nagakura-san go with him to Yagi's to ensure the child's safe return. Everyone else continue with your day off." Hijikata left with Kondo, they heard Kondo laughing as they rounded the corner of the headquarters._

"_So what were you doing with him…" asked Nagakura as he and Okita walked off. The tenth, ninth, and eighth unit captains bickered over why Okita had kidnapped the child, Saito just shook his head. Idiots._

_Later that night… An amber eyed wolf cursed when he found baby dropping in his futon. Hijikata gave Okita a month of double shifts and a sound reprehend for abusing the waste of a child and told him to use his own next time. Saito vowed to make Okita's life hell after that._

That is a damn good reason to hate children, he mused, coming back to the present. Oh Okita and Nagakura had paid for that. He'd beaten them black and blue at practice the next morning, even breaking Nagakura's wrist so he had it in a sling for weeks. Hijikata had been forced to step in before Saito killed their two other most skilled swordsmen, but Saito had been appeased until the next stunt.

Why had those idiots always pestered him? Didn't they know he wouldn't sit back and laugh about it like the other captains? Okita and Kai were the worse at pulling stunts on him and he'd wondered why Nagakura, who knew he didn't take kindly to it, would have joined that time. Thankfully Nagakura had refrained from joining the idiot duo in their misdeeds after that.

Of course Okita and Kai had not limited themselves to messing with just him. They'd gotten Sanosuke, Todo, and the other captains too. He recalled a pleasantly surprised Todo seeing a nasty smear on his fundoshi…

"_Hijikata-sama, Hijikata-sama! I'm dying," Todo had screamed, suddenly running into the Shinsengumi headquarters. He was waving his fundoshi around like a madman._

"_What are you doing?" Hijikata looked ready to explode at the moron. Todo showed him the blood. "What of it? You probably just didn't―."_

"_No. That's not it," Hijikata looked annoyed at being interrupted. "I'm really dying. Every day for the last two weeks I've found blood on my fundoshi. I'm dying I tell you."_

"_What's going on," asked an innocent looking Okita. Hijikata had given Okita a thoughtful once over, looking like he was suspicious already. Hijikata had a way of detecting bullshit from miles away._

"_You're not dying, Todo-san," Hijikata said calmly. "Where's Kai-san from Nagakura-san's unit."_

"_I don't know…why?" Okita smiled as Todo was freaking out, touching the blood spot with shaking hands._

"_Because I think you and he had a hand in this, Souji-san. You want to tell me now or wait it out and get more punishment? I won't go easy on this, Souji-san. One of our captains is acting like an idiot and he's making us look bad. Todo-san go back to your room and shut up about this."_

"_I don't want to die young…" He wailed, turning, and walking off._

_Okita just smiled harder, noticing Hijikata's look he laughed. "It was a good one, Hijikata-sama."_

"_Go apologize, that wasn't a funny stunt. Think of your own disease, Souji-san," Hijikata had left huffing, not looking pleased with all the nonsense._

_Okita had just shrugged and found Todo, telling him it was just pig's blood. Todo had never looked more relieved and Okita had it laughed off, remarking later, "I wanted someone to know how I felt when I found out. It worked a little. If I'd done it on Saito I would have awake drenched in my own blood, Harada-san. It really was the funniest thing…"_

Saito shook his head, his thoughts had turned more and more to his old comrades lately. He didn't like it. It was strange behavior for him to think about the past so often.

He felt her arms slid around his shoulders, her head falling onto one of them. "Hajime, I feel like crap."

"You could just abort it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's got you in it and I don't know if I could kill a living being like that."

"Humph. I could do it for you."

"No, you couldn't. Hajime?"

"Hm?"

"I don't really like children. They're annoying, unpredictable, and disorganized. Pretty much every thing I dislike in adults."

"I suppose we'll just have to like this one. I don't like that they also repeat everything. Why is that? Do they think we're stupid?"

"I think they just do that to get attention. I don't know. I've never really spent much time with children. Or babies for that matter."

"You're a woman, aren't you suppose to be an expert?"

"I wish I was. Morinosuke grew up in Edo while I spent my younger days as a lady-in-waiting to Teru-sama. I've seen children all the time, but I've never really spent much time with them until recently. Maeko's younger brother Genji is actually rather delightful, well expect when he throws a tantrum…or cries…or begs…hm…"

He snorted, "Sounds like an annoying little shit. Can't we have an abortion?"

"I already said no, Hajime."

"It would be a simple matter of tansy or pennyroyal."

"Those are dangerous herbs. I wouldn't trust them not to kill me."

"Humph. Child labor can be just as dangerous," he muttered, but the look Tokio was giving him said there would be no swaying of her mind on this matter. "Can we adopt him or her out?"

"Hm."

"Do we know anybody whose family line is almost extinct unless we give them this child?"

She was considering it, that was good. "I don't know how comfortable I feel about that. I don't want some bad parents to raise him or her. Can we afford to keep the child?"

He frowned, thinking on it. "We could try, but with the house payments, the new student, and now the baby we'll be stretching ourselves thin. We can manage, but we have to be stringent on the money."

"I could get another job," she ventured. Her hours at the school weren't horribly long, there was room for another occupation if she got a compatible schedule with her school hours.

"Don't even consider it. I'm the man of the household I should be able to support you."

"Ego alert."

"Very funny," he said sarcastically, he became serious with his next words though. "A husband who can't support his wife and child is no better than one who can't protect them. I'll get another job, a promotion, or I'll go to Okubo-san and do a little work for him. Either way the money issue will be resolved without you needlessly working another occupation."

"But I like work," she nudged him and he stared indifferently back. He was as unrelenting on this subject matter as she had been on abortion. She sighed, moving so she was in front of him. "Hajime-kun…"

"What?"

"I like teaching. A lot of the students are interested in what I'm teaching them and I can actually have intelligent conversations and class debates."

"Humph," he looked bored, but she knew he was listening so she let it go.

"Hajime-kun?"

"Hm?"

"I wouldn't mind working as a secretary or something. Paperwork is―."

"Stop it, Tokio."

She sighed, "What other job could you do?"

"Hitokiri."

"I mean besides that! Okubo-san hasn't given you any…eh…targets for almost four months. An inconstant job like that wouldn't help much. You aren't social and you're kind of scary. That pretty much means you can't work with anyone else."

"Don't worry about it. If nothing else I'll go work as an assistant instructor at one of the dojos. Of course if I remember correctly dojos have crappy pay," his eye twitched. "Kondo-sama use to pay below even a decent instructor's pay at the Shieikan. He was a goddamn cheapskate."

She laughed, it was really rare for him to mention his Shinsengumi days and it made her smile when he did. He must be in an alright mood, despite the revelation of the baby growing in her. She pressed her head to his chest, he grunted, not moving his arms to touch her.

She was enjoying listening to his chest rise and fall when he snapped out, "Where's my soba? I don't have time for this." He stood suddenly, "I'll eat out before going on duty. Don't stay up waiting for me," he hissed, stopping near the shoji, "last time you were a mess the whole day."

"Bye, Hajime-kun!"

"Don't call me -kun," he hollered back at Tokio, not bothering to turn and see her sitting in the living room. He saw the girl jump as she came out of her room, staring at him like a frightened rabbit. She scurried back into her room, closing the shoji with force. A rabbit jumping back into its hole, but he wasn't inclined to attack her yet. He'd tell her all about the household rules tomorrow.


	24. Chapter 24: Tokyo, 1875, Part 2

He sat smoking, glancing lazily around the room. He hated breaks because of the boredom that came with them, but liked that he could get a cigarette in before going back to the paperwork.

His katana was not on his waist, but on the floor at his feet, hidden from view of the doorway. His back was to the door, but he'd know if anyone tried to sneak up on him. When he'd first been assigned to the back row of the police station he'd asked to be moved closer to the entrance. His reasoning was simple enough. He didn't trust the other fools of the police department to accurately be able to handle a surprise attack. He just felt safer handling it himself.

Some officers were roaming around the station, either on break or getting some refreshments. He rolled his eyes at the two chatting at the tea and drink table. He sneezed once, twice, and than a third time. He glared at the taller one who met his eyes briefly before sheepishly turning away.

Chief Inspector Masato Wakahisa was talking to a new officer who'd come running into the department, declaring a crisis was happening. Of course Masato, being the sensible sort, got the young man to collect himself and slow his speech down so his words were comprehensible.

"So he killed Tsukuda-san? He got past all his bodyguards? Sounds unbelievable." He frowned at what he was hearing from Wakahisa. That sounded bad, it must have been a skilled assassin if he got past Osamu Tsukuda's twenty fairly skilled bodyguards. Why was someone killing these people? Three prominent members of the Meiji government had been killed and in all likelihood by the same vagabond. Revenge likely and he didn't like people who killed for such petty reasons.

"Let me protect his next victim," Wakahisa who was still talking stopped and stared at him.

"Why would you want to?"

"He sounds like he'd be a little bit of a challenge," Saito blew out smoke, smirking. "He's a leftover from the Bakumatsu that some sane swordsman just hasn't gotten around to finishing off yet.."

Wakahisa looked uncomfortable at the predatory look in Saito's eyes. "No need to send you, Fujita-san, we'll just sent some of the underlings. They want to prove themselves anyway so here's a good chance. Whoever he was he likely beat Tsukuda's people by luck alone. He won't succeed with gunman as his opponents."

Saito shrugged, "Let the recruits prove themselves through death, eh? I didn't know you where so cruel, Wakahisa-sama."

"They can handle themselves, just because everyone isn't as skilled as you doesn't mean they can't kill a wandering madman."

"Sure," he went back to his paperwork.

* * *

He leaned back in his seat, disregarding his paperwork to listen. He frowned as the police officer relating the bad news said that all fifteen of their police officers protecting Aito Fujimoto and the man himself were dead. Damn. This was getting more interesting and bloody than he'd anticipated.

"Wakahisa-sama," his superior saw him listening and glared.

"Stay out of this, Fujita-san. We're discussing important information about a criminal."

"Humph. I was just going to ask if you know the name of the murderer."

Wakahisa blinked, "You think you might know this man?"

"Perhaps. He's killed several gunmen without even blinking an eyelash. Several gunmen who should have been able to draw their weapons and kill him long before he got in range to kill them with his sword. Was there a sign of struggle?"

Wakahisa looked at the officer before him who shook his head, "No, Fujita-san."

"Then I have two ideas on this man's identity. Either he's the one with godlike speed or he's got a nasty ability to paralyze his victims."

"Who?"

"Battousai the manslayer or Jin-e Udo." There was silence throughout the room, several officers who'd been listening heard that legendary name and froze their activities. "But it's unlikely to be the Battousai simply for the fact that I doubt he'd be killing the Imperialist he'd helped get their power. So that leaves Jin-e Udo. Jin-e was a part of the Shinsengumi back in the day, but he was dangerous and killed members of his corps and citizens along with the Ishin patriots. Hijikata-sama had made plans to assassinate Udo, but the man disappeared before it could be carried out. Hm…"

"Hm?" Wakahisa looked troubled.

"I was just thinking I hope it's the Battousai. He'd be more of an obstacle than that pathetic Jin-e, but nonetheless I think this will be the highlight of my year."

Wakahisa looked annoyed, "You've no heart, Fujita-san. We've lost countless men to this killer and all you can think of is that you wish he was an even better manslayer?"

Saito chuckled, "So will you sign me up to protect his next victim or lose the lives of more of our men?"

Wakahisa sighed, "Just don't burn all of Tokyo down, Fujita-san."

He smirked, "I'll try not to but I won't guarantee anything." Wakahisa shook his head, he was going to regret letting this Wolf run wild he just knew it.

* * *

Saito didn't bother telling Tokio anything when he came home for dinner. She had mentioned she felt nauseous today and he watched her eat slowly. Stupid pregnancy.

She was talking animatedly with Ryoko Koda, the new student staying with them. He watched his wife, noticing that her breasts were slightly bigger than usual…hm… One good thing about being pregnant, he reckoned, everything else was depressing.

She wasn't unaware of his attention, but she chose not to pay him any heed. Ryoko was talking about school work and some friend of hers. Before he really knew what was going on Ryoko was bowing politely and leaving the room. He blinked at Tokio, "What just happened?"

"Weren't you listening, Hajime? Ryoko was saying she'd like to go over to a friend's house to study. I can't stay I blame her, you were openly glaring at everything."

"I thought I was just looking at you... Your breasts are bigger." She picked up a chopstick and threw it at him. "Don't throw things. I wasn't saying that's a bad thing, your breasts could use some size increase."

This immediately resulted in her throwing her other chopstick which he caught and set next to the first. "Stop it, Tokio."

She glared, "That was insensitive, Hajime. You better be gratefully that you're male, being pregnant isn't fun."

"Oh and having a raging wife who throws things and blames everything on you is?"

"Humph," but she was smiling as she left the room.


	25. Chapter 25: Tokyo, 1875, Part 3

Last chapter was short because it was originally a part of the Jin-e scenes, but I divided it up so it would be easier to read. I hope I portrayed Jin-e at least a little close to his anime counterpart. I noticed that in episode seven or eight, can't remember which right now, when he kidnaps Kaoru and is sitting on a rock that he's smoking so I decided to mention the habit he shares with Saito. Jin-e may have been Kenshin's first serious opponent in the anime, but that's not to say he's weak. Of course our arrogant Wolf would probably say he could beat Jin-e, lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

* * *

He smoked while he waited. The other officers in the room looked nervous. The pump politician who they were protecting was sitting in his chair, playing a game of chess with Wakahisa who was dressed like a visiting friend. Wakahisa had insisted that he would be the last line of defense, a surprising trump card if the assailant wasn't killed by the police. Saito had told him it was unnecessary and Wakahisa had merely told him to mind his superiors.

He heard a cry from outside the room. He nonchalantly dropped his cigarette on the floor, hearing another piecing scream of agony. Several of the men tensed, two drew their guns fearfully. He sighed; those idiots were showing their true colors with their fear. He missed men who had spine, like Hijikata and the others.

He drew his katana and crouched into his stance for the Gatotsu. He waited patiently as another ear spitting cry from a police officer down the hall tore the air. There was one more officer outside the door and he was sure all three outside had been dispatched earlier. Wakahisa glanced over his shoulder, his hand raised in midair, he would give the signal when the killer appeared.

The door was shoved open and two bullets hit the man who propelled into the room in terror. It was the last officer running away from his enemy; the two gunmen both lowered their weapons in horror, realizing they'd killed a comrade. He glared at them, they were idiots not only for shooting without knowing who was coming inside, but even stupider for lowering their guards.

"It seems I've got an audience," commented the wicked voice of the murderer as he entered. Gray hair, blue eyes, red scarf, and almost as tall as him. Jin-e Udo just as he'd expected. Saito narrowed his eyes, "Well let's have a little bit of fun. Why don't you draw your weapons? I don't want to kill anyone unprepared," Jin-e's voice was mocking, Saito knew he'd kill them with or without weapons.

Several officers went for their guns, the two with their guns' drawn already went to lift them to aim. Jin-e laughed, using his Shin-no-ippou on the men in the room he stopped all the movement. He grinned violently as one of the officers mumbled, "I can't move."

"Shin-no-ippou, a style that paralyzes the enemy. It is only affective," Saito smirked as he lunged at Jin-e, "if the person it is used on has a weaker swordsmen spirit." Jin-e blocked his Gatotsu, their swords clashing with a loud clamor. Jin-e's strength wasn't as impressive as his Shin-no-ippou. He moved way, settling a short distance so that he could spring at Jin-e with only one step.

"Someone who uses a left handed thrust? I never thought I'd see the day," Jin-e looked impressed, he ought to it be impressed with his Gatotsu for it would be the death of him. "Did you fight for the Meiji during the revolution? You must have, there would be no need for such strength in this easy era. Tell me your name," it was more a demand than anything and if there was one thing Saito disliked it was people dictating his actions.

"That's need to know information, Jin-e Udo, and you don't need to know because you'll be dead." He dropped into Gatotsu and leaped at his adversity. Jin-e went to sidestep his attack and found it backfiring on him as Saito's katana followed him. Jin-e saved himself just in time by raising his sword quickly to parry.

"My hats' off to you," Jin-e said, mildly amused, "I wasn't expecting that attack to be so versatile. I won't make the same mistake."

"Humph, I'd be a little disappointed if you underestimated me again. I'm looking for a good fight… I've not had a worthy adversity since the Bakumatsu."

"You look as hungry for blood as me," Jin-e smiled, his eyes widening with delight as he looked at the Wolf before him. "Why do you work for the Meiji like some sort of dog? You could have a lot more fun if you quit this charade."

"Charade?" He smirked with amusement.

"Of course. Pretending to be servile and docile doesn't suit you, my Bakumatsu friend, you need the excitement of killing. The smell of blood, the fading of fire in a man's eyes, yes…" Jin-e looked like he was getting high with the mental imagine. He started laughing.

Saito joined him with a chuckle, "What's so funny, Jin-e?"

"Doesn't killing people satisfy your primal urges, no?"

The other officers were starting to look concerned at the way the conversation was turning to almost friendly banter. Wakahisa's eyes said he wasn't happy.

Saito smirked, "Only if it's people who deserve death. You served the Shinsengumi, didn't you, Jin-e Udo?"

"That was many years ago," Jin-e wasn't looking so pleased anymore.

"Long enough for you to lose your humanity. Aku Soku Zan was the motto of the Shinsengumi, but you never followed that even from the beginning. You are nothing but a blood thirsty lunatic who should have been put down many years ago. I don't mind doing it now. Killing indiscriminately is not only primeval, but wasteful and hideous. Killing those like you who know only evil is much more satisfying to my blood lust than killing innocent children and women like you've been doing."

Jin-e looked disheartened at his words, "You keep to your lease and I'll run wild while you watch from the sidelines, wishing you were me. Let's not talk anymore."

"Agreed." Half crouched he waited, watching Jin-e. The man sure was grinning like a lunatic. He lunged with his Gatotsu and Jin-e countered by blocking the blow. He saw the one handed thrust and sidestepped, Jin-e saw that he'd sidestep it and taking a step to the right alongside him tried a side slash. He jumped out of the way. They parted for a moment, eying each other from a pace's distance. Jin-e wasn't half bad at reading his movements, but he had the upper hand with his strength.

He went back to his Gatotsu stance, frowning at Jin-e. Jin-e smiled, "The same thing again, officer? Do you think I'll fall for that? Don't be stupid."

He attacked and Jin-e countered easily. A straight slash downward which he sidestepped. He planned on using the opening to attack, but Jin-e had pulled out his wakizashi and before he could do anything the wakizashi sliced into his right arm. He cursed, retreating from Jin-e. Jin-e chuckled, looking instantly gratified with the fresh blood on his blade. "Too easy, Meiji's dog."

"Meiji's dog? I think Wolf is more appropriate."

"Humph," Jin-e corked his head a little, "You were a Shinsengumi member? I can't say I expected that. Though I shouldn't be surprised with what you were spurting out earlier. To think a former Bakufu supporter would turn around and join the Imperialists. I really find this interesting. Why'd you switch sides?"

"Like I said with my name before its need to know information."

"Hm," Jin-e flashed all his teeth and a look of recognition passed into his eyes. "A left handed thrust similar to the hirazuki created by Vice-commander Hijikata of the Shinsengumi, Wolfish features, an unpleasant attitude, and the habit of smoking? You're Hajime Saito, third unit captain of the infamous Shinsengumi… Funny I didn't realize that earlier. We never met, I was a file and rank member and you were a captain, but I heard enough tales. I don't recall any saying you smoked though? That a new hobby, Saito?"

"I quit sake so I took up smoking. Want a cigarette? I'll trade you one for a hand?"

Jin-e laughed, "No thanks, I got my own. How'd you figure out I smoked?"

"You smell like cheap cigarettes."

He chuckled, "I don't exactly make a lot of money killing."

"My cigarettes are better, I assure you. The deal still stands."

"I like my hands, they allow me the ability to kill," Jin-e beamed an insane looking grin, "Let's have another go, but don't stress yourself, your wounded, Captain."

"Didn't we talk about underestimating me earlier?" He yelled as he ran, their swords connected and Saito pushed on his, forcing Jin-e, who was slightly physically weaker than him, to step back. He nearly collided into one of the frozen officers, trapped between his own sword and the helpless officer behind him. The police officer didn't look happy having two dangerous killers' involving him in their duel to the death, particularly when he couldn't run away.

Saito stopped the wakizashi from decapitating him by blocked it with his own wakizashi. Twisting their connected wakizashi he sent them both flying away. He grinned and with gusto kicked Jin-e where it hurt the most.

"Low blow," Jin-e mumbled, his face looking thoroughly unhappy for once and like a slimy snake he slid out of his trap. Saito followed him like the relentless Wolf he was. Both men eyed each other, Jin-e ruffled his red scarf as Saito watched him unflinchingly. Jin-e smiled devilishly and with one hand through his scarf at Saito. He used his sword to dash the offending garment away, preparing for the surprise attack instantly after wards. When none came he followed Jin-e's trail with his eyes. The manslayer had killed Gakuto Kobayashi, the politician they were suppose to protect, with one blow, slashed Wakahisa with a blow to his abdomen, and was standing by the window. He was smiling violently, looking with wide eyes at the blood on his katana. "I hope to see you again, Captain!" He jumped out and Saito ran toward the window, watching the man run across the yard.

He put a foot on the ledge and was about to jump out after him when a commanding voice stopped him. "There are more important matters to attend to! We've got injured men."

He turned to see Toshimichi Okubo standing in the entrance way, not looking pleased. The man who'd spoken was a shorter fellow with black hair and a police uniform. He glared, "One should commit seppuku before ever letting an enemy escape."

"That code of yours is obsolete," Okubo said. He straightened in annoyance and moved away from the window. He didn't like his regulations being dismissed as obsolete, they should be followed as closely as Bushido. "Don't be so testy, Saito-san. You'll have another time to encounter Kurogasa."

"Kurogasa?" The other officers, released from Jin-e's paralyzing Shino-no-ippou were still shaken by the events of tonight. A few were checking on Wakahisa who was bleeding badly.

"His real name isn't known," replied the officer who'd entered with Okubo.

"His name is Jin-e Udo."

"You know him?"

"Never met him personally. Just heard about him during the Bakumatsu."

"I see," Okubo was frowning, "Take care of him for us, Saito-san. We don't need him around in this era, you understand. Another time," Okubo said when Saito glanced over his shoulder. "We'll commission you another time. How's your wife?"

"She's fine."

"What was her name again? Shinoda?"

"Yaso Shinoda-san was my first wife," Okubo, who hadn't known he'd married Tokio, looked perplexed. "The woman I married in 1874 is Tokio Takagi. You know her."

"That woman?" Okubo didn't look happy as he remembered his first meeting with Tokio.

"Indeed. I find her an excellent soba cook. I must say it's the only reason I married her," he picked up his wakizashi and sheathed both his katana and wakizashi with a chuckle.

"What happened to Shinoda-san? Did you divorce her or is she still living?"

He blinked, "I haven't spoken to her for about a year and a half, but I assume she's alive yet. She was seriously ill when I last saw her, but I've not heard anything about her dying. She divorced me by the way."

"Doesn't surprise me much," Okubo shook his head. "How's Wakahisa-san?"

One officer shook his head, "Dead."

"That's disagreeable." Okubo remarked stiffly, "Uramura will take over as Police Chief and Saito…"

He lit a cigarette, "I'm officially off of duty since its past 2 o'clock, Okubo-san. I think I'll be going now."

"A moment, Saito, I want to discuss a certain issue with you before you head for home."

"Not work related," Saito took a draw, "I hope." Blowing out the smoke he looked as impassive as ever, even though he had a wound on his arm.

"Aren't you going to get that bandaged?"

He looked at his right arm, "My wife will do it."

"I see. About that issue…"

"Not curious at present."

He made to leave, but Okubo stopped him, "Even if it involves Takamori Saigo?"

"Why would I care about Takamori Saigo? He has nothing to do with me."

"Come to the department on the fifteenth of July. We can talk more openly about everything."

He glared as he walked out. What had Takamori Saigo done now? He wondered as he walked down the corridor and passed the corpses of the officers Jin-e had killed.

* * *

Tokio wasn't happy when she saw the blood on his uniform and the injury on his arm. "Ryoko-san," the girl came out of her room at the sharp tone in Tokio's voice. "Can you go and boil us some water? Please fetch the bandages and switching needles in the toilet room too? Thank you." Tokio turned angry eyes on her husband, "How did this happen?"

He sat down, facing the alcove, "I got into a fight with another from the Bakumatsu. Nothing to worry over. It's a minor wound."

"Minor wound or not it could get infected. Take your clothes off."

He smirked, "All my clothes, Tokio?"

Tokio, usually so calm and collected, glared at him. "This is not something to joke about, Hajime."

He pulled her into his lap, laughing mildly, "Take care of me, my Tokio." She pushed him away when he was about to kiss her. He worked the buttons off on his jacket, chuckling at his wife's flushed expression as she stood.

Ryoko came back with the things she'd requested and set them down. "I've got the water started, Fujita-sama." She saw his arm and winced, looking away.

"You can go back to bed, Ryoko-san," he told her.

She bowed and left, hesitating at her door before going inside. He pulled his shirt off. She sighed, setting out the sewing needles, the white bandages, and the cloth to clean the blood. She pressed the cloth to his wound, watching his stoical face for a sign of pain. He just kept staring forward, his jaw set and lips firmly pressed together. Saito wasn't one to let it be known that he was in pain.

She went to retrieve the boiling water and came back to find him exactly the same as when she'd left, only his hand held the fabric to his wound. He looked at her as she set the water down. She dipped another cloth in the water, removed the one he was holding to this wound to stop the bleeding, and gently washed his injury. She saw him wince when the hot water touched his wound, but other than that he was an ideal patient. Adding a dab of ointment that was suppose to keep away infection she saw his jaw tighten in pain and his eyes narrow when it meet his flesh. His head jerked a little when she withdrew the cloth, wiping away any blood still gushing out with the first cloth. She picked up the needle and thread.

He watched her with derision as she set the needle to his skin, but she knew his look was aimed more at the pain than her. Seeing her hesitate, he nodded his head, assuring her that it would be alright. She penetrated the flesh next to the wound and carefully began switching. She was grateful now for her training in Aizu in 1868. Without it she was sure Saito would have done a half hazard job by himself.

"We should take this to the doctor."

"We don't have the funds to afford it. You're care will be enough."

"But if it gets infected I can't handle that. A doctor―."

"If it gets inflicted," Saito insisted, "it won't if I keep it clean."

"Hajime," she sighed and continued switching.

* * *

She laid in his arms later, her eyes tracing where she knew the wound was that she'd switched up and bandaged. He was lying on his left side and she noticed the scar from the wakizashi of the two handed wielder on his thigh. She leaned against him, "Hajime?"

"What's wrong now?"

"Are you happy being married to me?"

There was silence. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, but they were closed. She frowned, "You're happy right, koishii?"

"Not when you call me that," his lips were smirking. He opened his eyes and gave her a genuine almost human-like smile. "I'm the happiest I've ever been, Tokio. I'm happier here with you than I was in my youth, or part of the Shinsengumi, or married to Yaso. Know that now and don't ever make me repeat it, eh?" He kissed her tenderly and she melted in his arms, burying her head against his chest.

"I'm happy too, Hajime. And ai shiteru. I never did say it back that Year End Festival."

He smiled, touched her cheek softly, and kissed her roughly. She smiled. She really loved him and hoped he never got himself killed because of his Aku Soku Zan.


	26. Chapter 26: Tokyo, 1875, Part 4

Tokio smiled, walking faster to catch up with her husband. He was walking briskly, asking her why he'd been forced to come

She laughed at his dour expression, "Because you promised a few days ago that we'd go to the Tanabata festival. It will be fun I promise."

"I don't believe fun is the right word, more like dreadful."

She clutched his arm. He sighed. The walk was crowded, girls in bright kimonos and men in long dark yukata passed them on their way to the shrine. The air smelled of the perfumes from the young ladies. Children milled around the candy shops, glancing in the windows, hoping their parents would purchase some. The parents' of these wayward children stood nearby, gathering with neighbors and relatives recalling old memories of their childless days. Couples walked lovely in twos, passing gossiping clusters of women and politic talking men.

He sighed again, he hated crowds. He detested crowds. Why had he let her drag him outside? Why had she come to him dressed as she was and demanded that he come with or she'd go alone? If only she hadn't dressed so lovely and if only he wouldn't have worried about her safety. He could have been inside, away from the crowd, sipping some oolong tea.

He glanced at her in annoyance, but his face quickly cleared when he saw just how pretty she looked tonight. Tokio was wearing a soft plum colored yukata and had a fan with a depiction of plum blossoms in summer. The top half of her hair was in a white ribbon with the bottom ribbon a blue one. She wore two gold bira bira that she'd borrowed from Maeko for the occasion. The kanzashi consisted of two bright orange flowers with raindrop bira bira hanging down. He thought she looked delightful. She looked so beautiful. He smiled, happy that she was his wife.

"You look good tonight," he mumbled close to her ear, watching her blush. Why did she always blush? It wasn't like she was virgin. He smiled, "Do you have any plans for later?"

Tokio blushed fiercer at his words, "Why, Fujita-san, I wasn't aware you were interested. I thought you were celibacy."

He snorted, "Want me to show―."

"Goro-san!" His right eye twitched and he didn't turn to see Morinosuke running up to them. "Are you two heading to Tanabata? I just got back in town. Did you know they have a spectacular Tanabata festival in Sendai? I've missed it there, but apparently all the shops have really crazy decorations and lights. I really considered staying for a few more days just to see it, but I've missed the city and my dear onna."

Saito looked at him, "Why don't you just go live in Sendai?"

"Why would I want that?"

"Because it's far away." Morinosuke didn't realize he was being insulted.

Tokio chuckled lightly, "It's good to have you back, brother. I want to hear all about your trip," she knew that would bring his spirits back. Saito sighed, trailing behind his wife and her brother who talked incessantly about his couple weeks in Sendai.

"How you doin', Saito-kun," he glared at the man who appeared out of a side alley and started walking beside him.

"I'd be much better off if you disappeared back into that alley, Nagakura-san."

He chuckled, "Sarcastic as ever, Saito-kun. You never really changed much since those times, hm. A lot of the guys I've meet from back then aren't the same. I'm glad you've not changed much."

"I've not changed at all."

"No, you've changed a bit, but you're still an uncompromising hard ass. That wife of yours has changed you, whether you realize it or not. You're not so simple mindedly devoted to the Shinsengumi like you use to be. You were always cautious, but you're even more so now. Also you―."

Saito went to hit Nagakura on the back of the head, but the man ducked, smiling impishly. He glared, "Don't assume you know me just because we were once allies, Shinpachi."

"We're still allies, Saito-kun. We both still follow the regulations and the motto, don't we?"

"Humph."

Nagakura, who had always been more serious than Harada, Okita, and Kai, turned sober quickly. "We've enemies. How many times have you been attacked?"

He glanced at the other man briefly before gazing at Tokio. She was nodding animatedly to Morinosuke's chatter. He knew his wife had noticed his companion at the first, but Morinosuke the oblivious still hadn't noticed the new addition to the party. "A handful of half skilled morons who weren't much trouble. Why?"

"Just wondering if anything serious might have happened. You remember Ito?"

"Kashitaro."

"Hm. His brother was trying to kill me for a while."

"You're bad lucky not mine." They were getting much closer to the shrine now; it would only be a few more streets to pass. He glanced at Nagakura, "Get to the point of this?"

"I can't say much here. Only know that an old powerful enemy is out and about. He's―."

"Jin-e Udo."

Nagakura blinked, "I wasn't talking about that lunatic, though I heard he was in the area too. From what my sources have told me he took off to Niigata."

"I'm glad to see I scared him off."

Nagakura raised a brow at that, "You scared him off?"

"We fought a few nights ago. Jin-e knows he's no match for me so he took off like a smart man."

"Arrogance isn't becoming, Saito-kun," Nagakura said mildly, smiling. "But even Okita and I were afraid of your skill back in the day and I bet it hasn't diminished any, too."

"Not a wink," he smiled smugly.

"Sure. Listen, our old friend is lurking around," he slipped a piece of paper into his hand, "Meet me at that address alone. Got it?"

"Humph," he slipped it into his sleeve, watching Nagakura disappear. Who from the Bakumatsu was in Tokyo? It was strange that Nagakura was here too. Hadn't the man returned to Hokkaido shortly after his wedding? Why was he back? Was it because he was worried about the reappearance of this old enemy? He frowned, who the heck was it? Could it possibly be…him? No, he wouldn't bring his hopes up just to see them get dashed. He'd assume his opponent was just a madman like Udo until proven otherwise.

Tokio was looking at him over her shoulder. He smiled at her, showing her it was nothing important. She didn't need to worry about nonexistent threats Nagakura was making up. Likely Nagakura's 'sources' were just lame brained idiots who'd gotten their information wrong.

He frowned at another thought. Had he really changed since his Shinsengumi days? Was he really over cautious now? Well, there was no doubt that Tokio had changed him, but was it that apparent? Was he afraid to die? He shied from that question, but told himself there was nothing to fear in that question. He wasn't afraid to die…he just didn't want to die. He'd never been one to go down helplessly and that was how it would be. He survived so much through the years. There was no way he'd die and leave Tokio and their unborn son alone in this world. He'd survive whatever trials this Meiji era sent his way. If only for the reason his wife would never forgive him in death if he died before her.

The shrine visit was a boring one. Tokio saw Ryoko and some students hanging around and went to talk to them. He waited impatiently for when they could leave as Tokio introduced Morinosuke to Ryoko and her friends. Morinosuke seemed charmed by Ryoko, he noticed, how old was he? Twenty, maybe twenty-one or two? He'd never bothered to ask Tokio her brother's age, Morinosuke wasn't exactly his favorite person.

He crossed his arms, watching people in his habitual manner. He'd always watched people, partly because assailants could be anyone (he'd learned that during his Shinsengumi years) and partly out of interest to see how other people reacted in crowds. The average citizen tended to act more docile in crowds and the crazies and nutcases tended to show themselves like they had big signs above their heads.

He saw one man harassing a shopkeeper about something and considered checking it out. He wasn't on duty, but just because he was off duty didn't mean he wouldn't get involved. Evil never took a day off so he didn't either. Perhaps he'd go over there and warn the man, glaring until the man took off in terror was always the easiest way to get rid of weaklings. Killing him seemed unnecessary, whatever the heated words between the two, nothing had taken place yet that would require his katana.

It was Tokio who took him from his dreary thoughts. "Goro-san?"

"Hm?"

"We're going to go write on the tanzaku. Do you want to come?"

"You go ahead, I have something I need to see to." He didn't go to the shop until they disappeared from sight. The two men were nearly at blows, but when they saw his looming figure both stared, the one man who'd rolled up his sleeves in preparation for a fight let them fall back down.

"You are aware that there are children and women here? A brawl would be a disagreeable thing to let arise at a festival. I suggest," one hand idly touched his katana to intimidate them, "you back down and settle this disrupt inside."

Both agreed readily and inside they went with him at their heels. Whoever said a Wolf couldn't shepherd sheep just as good as a dog? He smiled, watching the two men. The reason for the fighting wasn't nothing more than a trivial matter. Apparently the man had run up a tab at the shop and the owner wasn't taking it anymore, but the man had come back and tried to get the owner to allow him to pay him back at a later date. The owner of course didn't trust him and with good reason.

"Pay him whatever you have on you," Saito snapped, "or the full price if the tab isn't steep. Being indebted only causes trouble and misgivings. You'll give yourself a bad name that way," Kamo Serizawa had run up tabs all over Kyoto back in the day, Saito remembered, and it had been Serizawa's bad actions that had gotten the name Miburo attached to the Shinsengumi.

The two men started to bicker on the tabs price, the debtor claiming it was no more then 5000 yen while the other said it was nearly double that. He settled the dispute easily, "Pay 10,000 yen." The man started to complain, saying he didn't have that much, but the steely look Saito was giving him shut him up. He pulled out his wallet and reluctantly paid the shopkeeper.

Feeling relieved that he could leave, he turned to go when the shopkeeper stopped him, "Thank you!"

He waved a hand absently and left, telling himself the next time he saw idiots fighting about money troubles he was staying out of it.

He found her watching the children attach tanzuku to the bamboo trees, her back to him. He smiled, saying softly as he drew up behind her, "What a lovely sight."

She understood his meaning and smiled gently at him. "Goro-san?"

"What?"

"I want to go to Tonami."

He was silent and though she couldn't see him she knew he was tense and that his eyes had narrowed. "Why?" His words were suddenly curt.

"I miss everyone."

"I don't doubt that, but I know that isn't your main reason. Why do you want to speak to her?" Both knew her meant Yaso.

She didn't turn to see his face, her hands characteristically folding against her kimono, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly, and her head bowing. He'd never understand why Tokio's body language always went submissive when she didn't want to breach a subject. She was usually so witty and straightforward, expect when something was hurting her. Whatever this was it was causing her pain. Perhaps he'd ask her another time about her mannerisms, but a more pressing concern was glaring at him now.

"Why… I…I'm scared, Goro-san."

"Scared?"

"Do you know the story of the lovers who meet on Tanabata?"

"I've heard mention of it, but I've never celebrated festivals much so I don't recall it exactly."

"Orihime was said to weave beautiful clothes by the bank of the Amanogawa. On the other side lived Hikoboshi, a cow herder. Orihime lamented the fact that her weaving took all her time so that she couldn't fall in love. Her father Tenei arranged for her to meet Hikoboshi. When they met they fell in love and married shortly after. Once married though both Hikoboshi and Orihime neglected their work. Tenei in his anger separated them on the other sides of the Amanogawa. Orihime begged him to allow them to meet and Tentei allowed it on the seventh day of the seventh month only if Orihime finished her work."

"Sounds stupid," he remarked, "I wouldn't be satisfied with just a day out of a whole year with you. I could barely stand more than a few visits a month, much less and I'd have killed Yaso and married you. Aku Soku Zan aside," there was laughter in his tone though. She smiled slightly despite herself, "Are you afraid I'll neglect my duty in favor of spending time with you?"

"No."

"Then what, Tokio?"

"I'm afraid because of your duty, of Aku Soku Zan, I'll lose you," She felt his hard stare on her back. "I'm afraid you'll die and I'll be left without you… I don't want to lose you after I've just gotten you completely… I'd hate it," she was suffocating painfully at the thought that Saito could be killed, at the thought that she'd never see him again expect in death, and now that she'd experienced this love and not just the tiny shard she'd once cherished she couldn't stand losing it. She'd follow Saito to death if she had too.

His hand suddenly on her shoulder made her jump in surprise. He was leaning close now, his voice dripping with unbelievable tenderness. "Don't worry about me, Tokio-san. I'd never let myself be killed. I know the burden it would be to you. Trust me."

Her face lost all color, it was the first time he'd told her to trust him. Usually he was telling her not to. "Trust I'll protect you and my own life. Nagakura-san said something earlier and I think I understand why now. He said I'm much more cautious with my life now. I know why. During the Shinsengumi and even before that, before I ever knew you… I wasn't living because I'd wanted to survive, I was living because no one had killed me." Her eyes widened at the meaning of those words.

"You've given me a reason to live, Tokio," his face pressed softly to her shoulder. She realized only later that the crowd had thinned out to just a few stragglers, but at the time she'd thought there had been a crowd watching them. Of course she should have figured Saito wouldn't be even a little imitate in public. He found it disrespectful.

She remembered the conversation she'd had with Katamori about Saito's castle.

"_He is still only half a man, Tokio-san. You must help him build his castle. Help him see that life is worth living and give him the strength to want to live that life."_

"Do you still want to visit Tonami?"

She smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I told you I miss everyone and I want to talk to Yaso. Besides I owe her."

"Owe her?"

"For giving me you."

"Can't you just send a letter?" He lifted his head off her shoulder, rolling his eyes.

"And trust the mail system?"

"Have Morinosuke-san go. I wouldn't mind losing him for a while. You're pregnant so traveling isn't the best―."

"You're pregnant!" Morinosuke stammered, coming over to where they stood. He was back from the candy shop. Damn.

"Morinosuke―."

"You're pregnant!"

"Brother―."

"Pregnant, Tokio-chan?" Morinosuke looked dejected, "How can you be pregnant? Is it his," he pointed a thumb at Saito.

Saito glared, "Are you implying your sister's been unfaithful, Morinosuke-san?"

Not sensing he'd stepped onto unease ground, Morinosuke glared at the Wolf about to hack him into pieces. "I'm just saying I doubt you could satisfy my sister―."

Morinosuke found himself being lifted off his feet by the collar of his kimono and juban. He was a short man so he'd always had to look up at Saito, but now he was staring levelly into gold orbs. His breath hitched in fear at the dark look in those eyes. "Why are you such a pain," Saito hissed, "Why do you hate me?"

"Hate you," Morinosuke tried to kick himself free, but failed miserably, finding the iron vice grip wasn't letting him go any time soon. "I only hate you because you hate me!"

"I don't hate you, Morinosuke-san. I find your lack of common sense, insight, and your illegal habits more than a little annoying. And you always seem to think I can't protect Tokio or make her happy… That is the worse slight, boy." Then he was on his butt in the dirt and Saito was standing over him, taking out a cigarette. Morinosuke stared up at those glowing amber eyes, he expected to feel fear, but didn't.

"If I ever catch you in a gambling hall since I've heard you frequent such establishments I'll arrest you. Brother-in-law or not I don't give preferences." Then the Miburo turned away from him and started to walk off. Tokio offered her hand and he took it.

"He's a pain," Morinosuke snapped.

She smiled, "You're both just trying to make me happy," she ruffled his head, "you're just an overprotective brother and he's a possessive husband. Don't let Goro-san bother you too much."

"Oh yeah!" He glared at Saito's frame in the distance. "One of these days, Tokio, I swear I'm going wake up without a head."

She laughed, "You can't wake up if you're head's not there."

He ignored her correction, "Everyone will finally realize what a nut that guy is!"

"I'll just write a suicide note, saying you killed yourself because no women would marry you."

"See what I mean, Tokio."

She laughed, touching Morinosuke's head playfully. Her brother really was silly and her husband, who had a cruel sense of humor, couldn't help but make comments because of Morinosuke's lack of forethought in his remarks. It was no wonder why they disliked each other. Secretly she knew Saito liked Morinosuke a little bit and though her brother would never admit it she knew he didn't completely hate Saito either.

* * *

Over the next couple months she was pleasantly surprised to note that Morinosuke made less remarks about Saito's inability to protect her. She knew Saito hated those comments by Morinosuke because of night she was kidnapped by yakuza. He was still angry with himself about not being able to protect her that one time. She'd not blamed Saito for not being there and in fact she'd even stopped having nightmares about that night after the first couple months of their marriage. She was happily over that, she just wished Saito would be too. He needed to stop blaming himself for something he couldn't control.

She understood his worry that something like that could happen again and he'd started leaving his wakizashi at home. He'd told her it was because the department only let him carry one sword now, but she knew better. Something at work was making him nervous about their safety.

July fifteen. Saito had left especially early today, mentioning he had a meeting with Okubo. She frowned at that, wondering how that was going. She sneezed thrice, wondering who was talking ill about her.

* * *

"You're wife's a pain, Saito-san," Okubo remarked offhandedly.

"Tokio's personality isn't for everyone, Okubo-san."

"I suppose not. Do you want tea?"

"Oolong if you have it."

Okubo ordered the tea and Saito faced the nervous man's face. The man had rented the most private room at one of the best inns in town. No one would be able to hear there conversation here. He smiled, "Why are we being so discrete, Okubo-san?"

"Jin-e Udo isn't our only problem. Takamori Saigo's samurai are acting unruly and the governments getting wind he might start a rebellion."

"How does this relate to me?"

The tea arrived and Okubo dismissed the waitress before speaking. "In many ways. There's also a strange rumor going around about the Battousai." Saito had reached for his cup when he heard that name. He looked up into Okubo's brown eyes.

"The Battousai… Is he in Tokyo?" Was what Nagakura had implied on their meeting on Tanabata true? Was the Battousai back?

"Not from what we've gathered. We think he might be siding with Saigo."

"An enemy then."

"Saito-san."

"Hm," he sipped his tea with relish. The Battousai. His greatest enemy and his strongest opponent during the Bakumatsu. A real adversity for this Wolf of Mibu, who'd done nothing but live off scarps for opponents since those chaotic days had ended. The only man who he knew might be able to kill him. He was excited to say the least at the thought that the legendary manslayer was about again.

"We don't know for sure if that's more than rumor. Don't get too eager for a fight, it might not be so."

"Most rumors have at least a grain of truth to them. I don't care if he joins Saigo or not. I just want to cross blades with him again."

"If we can we'll make him an ally," Okubo looked annoyed, "Don't start fighting him if it's not necessary."

"Fine." He knew when to attack and when to wait. He could be very patient when he waited something bad enough. Heck he'd waited three years for Tokio he could wait a few more for the Battousai.

"The police will join in case Saigo starts anything. Be weary, Saito-san."

* * *

"So Nagakura-san," he mumbled, "why the fifteen of July?"

"I figured it was a good date."

"I just had a meeting," he watched Nagakura's expression carefully, "with Toshimichi Okubo."

"Oh," Nagakura looked somewhat bothered. "What about?"

"The Battousai and Sagio."

"I see. I guess this meeting is wasted if you already know about the Battousai."

"All I know is that there are rumors circulating of his return and that he plans on joining Saigo. Do you know anything else?"

"Seems Okubo's spies are pretty well informed. That's all I've heard too."

"How likely is it that he's back?"

"I don't want to get your hopes down, Saito-kun, it's fairly slim. Likely Saigo's people are just making up these rumors to get more supporters. Don't trust the rumors, but don't be caught off guard should they prove true."

"Excellent," he growled out, not looking too happy that all this talk of the Battousai was ending in nothing more concrete.

"Sorry," Nagakura rubbed the back of his head, "I really wish I could say more helpful stuff, but that man is a tricky fellow to find in this era. I guess we just wait it out?"

"Fine."

"Saigo's more a problem then the Battousai at present. We should focus our efforts on him and his band of samurai."

"Agreed. Do you still drink, Nagakura-san?"

"Sure."

"Let's have a cup of sake then. I haven't touched a drop of sake since before I got married."

"You're wife doesn't allow it? Got you on a tight lease, Saito-kun?"

"Tokio's a good woman. Not only would I not follow such trivial rules if she did lay them down, but she's not the type of wife that restricts her husband's the activities. You'd probably like her, Nagakura-san. I don't drink because I get violent. You remember what I did to Kanryuusai after drinking that one night, hm?"

"I heard you slashed him in the back. Underhanded, Saito-kun, I'd never thought I'd see the day where you used dirty methods."

"That wasn't my fault. The idiot saw me draw my katana and tried to run away. I'd call him a coward."

"Kanryuusai was just a pander. I also thought so, but Kondo liked him…so…"


	27. Chapter 27: Tokyo, 1876, Part 1

I hope everyone enjoys this chapters, it is long yeah!

* * *

"How many months left?" He asked as he slipped his jacket off. He'd just gotten home from all day at work.

She blinked, thinking. Apparently her midwives figured the baby had been conceived in late July. So August, September, October, November, December, and January. It was the fourteen of February and from what her midwives had told her the baby wouldn't be born until March. "About one," she mumbled.

"Good. The sooner you stop looking like a balloon the sooner I'll be able to enjoy s―."

She hit him with her fan, "Don't call me a balloon, Hajime!"

"You didn't let me finish."

"I don't want to hear it," she crossed her arms.

"The sooner you five birth to that baby the sooner," he yanked on the ribbon in her hair, "we can enjoy some alone time again. I must say several months with out it isn't easy."

"Why don't you go to Yoshiwara to wet your appetite, Wolf?"

"Shut up," he kissed her, "I don't need an oiran when I got a prettier woman at home. But if you ever get pregnant again I might be forced…"

She hit him playfully on the head again, laughing as he pushed her kimono off her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. What a tame Wolf he could be! Her giggling subdued as he kissed her neck fiercely, his left hand trailing between the folds of her kimono and juban. She stifled a sigh of pleasure as one hand messaged her sore breast. Saito was grinning, "Don't get noisy, Tokio," he whispered heatedly against her neck, flicking his tongue against her cool flesh, knowing she liked that. "Ryoko might think I'm hurting you."

She chuckled, "You're not hurting…eh..oh…ouch. Saito!"

"What? What did I do?"

"Not you! The baby. Ouch," Tokio pushed his hand away, "I think the baby wants out. Oh! Why am I wet?"

He made a face, "You're wet?" Then he saw the puddle.

"One of the midwives told me that when a babies about to come, ouch," Tokio looked in pain as she sprinted up her eyes, "that water comes out before."

He made a face, "I'll send Ryoko to fetch the midwives."

He found the girl in her room, practicing her calligraphy. "Tokio says the babies coming. Can you go fetch the midwives?" Ryoko left her things were they were and hurried out of the house.

Tokio who'd been sitting in the leaving room when her water broke had moved to the futon in their room while he alerted Ryoko of the situation. He knelt beside her, "Can you grab the chamber pot?"

He helped her stand when he brought the chamber pot over and watched her silently. He took the pot from her when she was done and emptied it in the toilet. He sat in seiza beside the futon, crossing his arms, setting the pot nearby should she need it again. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were closed.

"So what should we do? Do you need anything?"

"Well it shouldn't be for a few hours… When Ryoko and the midwives get here you can go to the police department and tell them you need the day off."

He nodded his head, he'd been thinking that. "It won't come out while I'm gone, will it?"

"The midwives told me it will probably take a couple hours so it shouldn't if you hurry and don't stop at a soba restaurant on the way home."

He smiled, she was in pain and yet she was still so cheery. He touched her head softly, pushing her hair from her face. "I thought we had a month."

"I guess we got the timing off."

"Hm…and just when I was getting in the mood," he glared at her stomach, "the boy better not keep it up after he's born."

"How do you know it will be a boy? I want a girl."

"You would."

"What's that suppose to mean, Hajime? Girls are wonderful things and I'd beat she'd be beautiful with your eyes." He rolled his eyes at her.

"I hope it's a boy. That way I can teach him to use kenjutsu. Teaching a girl, who probably won't even want to learn, to use a naginata isn't my idea of fun."

"How do you know if we have a boy that he'll want to learn kenjutsu?"

"First off he's a boy, Tokio, they like sharp shiny weapons. Secondly he's my son so he'd be part Miburo. It's a given he'd like kenjutsu."

"You're crazy. Ouch," she made a face, "I just hope he decides to get out soon."

"About names…I know we talked about it before…but I don't like the names we decided on."

"Hiromasa is an excellent name for a boy. Wise and straightforward is a good meaning."

He grunted, "I don't like it."

"We agreed."

"On the girl's name. Hiromi has a lovely ring to it, but Hiromasa sounds stupid."

"Broadminded beauty is perfect for a girl. Why don't you like Hiromasa?"

"I just don't and why did we decide on names that start with H?"

"Because your name starts with an H."

"Why not T?"

"Because I don't know many T names I like."

"What about Takeshi? The meaning is warrior?"

"I don't know, ouch."

"What about Takara meaning treasure? Takuma or Takahiro?

She just shook her head, "I knew a Takuma who was a drunk and abused his wife."

He rolled his eyes, "What about Tsubasa meaning wing?"

"I knew a woman named that."

"So no then. Are you just nixing my suggestions because you want an H name?"

She smiled, "No. If you came up a name I like I'll consider it."

He frowned, "Tsutomu?"

"Tsutomu?"

"It means worker."

"Ouch."

Ryoko came into the room with the midwives. He was shooed out alongside Ryoko. "Are you making dinner soon?"

"Tokio usually cooks… I know how to make rice balls, but I've never made soba, Fujita-sama."

He sighed, "I want fish. I'll make the soba and cook the fish. You make the rice balls and tea."

"Yes, Fujita-sama." Good respectable Ryoko, he mused, not crazy like that Mariko.

He hadn't cook for himself in a long time, not since his Shinsengumi days. The units had to switch between days cooking the meals or days working in the gardens. He still remembered long days in the sun, planting rice or potatoes. Harada complaining about his blistering shoulders. Okita laughing at something Tani said. Kai splashing Nagakura with the water for the plants. Hijikata reprimanding Kai for the waste. Kondo sitting with a book watching from the porch with Yamanami watching the unit who was cooking inside. He smiled, slicing up the fish with quick chops. Hm… He use to be known for his good fish and he knew Tokio would be hungry after the birth.

What had been Okita's favorite dish? Rice, tempera preferably cod, and some cool sake. Harada had always liked the chazuke or bubuzuke and Nagakura had always preferred umeboshi, even eating them plain sometimes. He'd never been able to eat plain umeboshi, particularly the salty one's Nagakura loved. He'd have to ask Nagakura if he still ate those heart burning plums.

A midwife came into the room, asking if one of them could bring them some water. A cry came from their room, "And the lady would like her husband to be present…"

He raised a brow to the fish underneath his knife, shrugged, his back to the middle-aged midwife, "I'll be there."

The woman left with the water Ryoko gave her. "Do you want me to check on Tokio-sama?"

"No. She's a long way to go yet, let them be for now. We should finish this first, hm?" A thought crossed his mind as he glanced at the skinny Ryoko boiling the tea. "What's your favorite food?"

She gaped at him in surprise, whether because of the triviality of his question or the bizarre timing he wasn't sure. "Kaki no shiokara…"

"Oyster eh? I prefer ika no shiokara or ami no shiokara. Did you know Tokio-san's favorite food is arare? Tokio-san told me she loves them so much because they remind her of her happy childhood. She said she loved going to the Doll Festival and eating tons of the colorful arare. Now she rarely eats them. I was thinking we should make her some."

Ryoko, who'd never heard him talk so much in the past year she'd been staying here, smiled. Maybe he wasn't as scary as he sometimes appeared and besides Tokio, one of the best people she knew personally, had married him so that counted for something right? She shrugged, watching the tea, "Thank you, Goro-sama."

He stared at her quizzically for a second before going back to his cutting. "I was suggesting you make them."

She laughed, "I don't mind."

He smiled, the girl had the same spirit as his Tokio and she was just as quick to obey him. Good she better be intimidated, it would be strange if she wasn't.

While the fish was cooking he chopped the soba noodles and put them in a pan, cooking them too. Ryoko was busy making the rice balls. He waited impatiently, hearing a loud cry of pain from their room. He sighed, damn that kid if he was causing Tokio unnecessary pain. He fiddled with the noodles, stirring them, trying not to think of his wife in pain because of their child. It was stupid to worry, but despite its stupidity and the fact that Tokio would be fine, Kami be damned if she wasn't, he was worrying. Tokio would be fine. She was a strong woman…but even strong willed woman fell to pregnancy…

He sighed, flipped the fish onto its other side. He needed a smoke. He pulled out his pack and took one out. He lit in with a match, glancing at Ryoko. The girl was busy pouring the water into the tea bowl and using the whisk to mix it with the water.

He took a long drag, frowning, staring at the wall listlessly. He jumped when the smell of smoke that wasn't his usual cigarette smell waffled into his nose. He took the fish off, noticing it was browned, but not charred black. At least he hadn't completely ruined it.

He settled before the alcove. What should he do with himself, he wondered, puffing on his cigarette. He could clean….he didn't mind cleaning, but Tokio wouldn't like that he was taking over her chores. He sighed, thinking hard. Well he should think of work related things. He still needed a second occupancy after all. He'd gone in and talked to a few dojo instructors, but none seemed overly interested in having him work for them. He wondered how interested they'd all be if he told them he was Hajime Saito, but knew it was too risky to get his new name smeared and might endanger Tokio and his own life. He cracked his neck, watching the cigarette dwindle as he took a drag.

Hm…

"Fujita-sama?"

"What, Ryoko-san?"

"Tokio-sama is asking for you…"

"Humph. Can it wait until I've finished my cigar―."

"Get in here, Goro!"

He winced a little, chuckling he put out his cigarette, and walked over to their room. "Tokio, there's no need to scream throughout the house. You don't want the neighbors to call the police. That would be uncomfortable for me―."

"Shimatta!" He'd never heard Tokio once mutter anything even remotely offensive and to hear that word come from his wife nearly made him grimace. "Shimatta!"

He went to the futon, bypassing the two midwives. He sat down seiza, looking at her sweating face. Her hair had been released from the confines of her kanzashi and ribbons and lay spread over her face and shoulders. He pushed the damp strands from her face, her brown eyes meet his. "Goro…" Her hand found his and clutched it. He smiled, hoping for once he appeared comforting, instead of intimidating or frightening.

"Tokio. You'll be fine," he let her hold his hand, remembering briefly another night where's she'd worn his haori and they'd held hands. He put his other hand over hers, pressed her short thin fingers reassuringly.

"Get this baby out," Tokio snapped at the midwives, throwing her head back with anger. His poor wife. He watched her labored breathing, her eyes sprinting closed with pain every once and awhile.

"When will it come," he demanding, glaring at the nearest midwife. The woman hesitated, looking unease at the look he was giving her. "Answer woman!"

"A long time yet. She's got a couple more hours."

Tokio grunted, "A couple more hours?"

"Yes. You're pangs should get closer to together and last…" He didn't listen to whatever else she was ranting on about. He just watched Tokio's tired expression, her pale cheeks, and her heaving stomach. Stupid baby. This was another mark against babies and children in general; they were a pain to get out and a pain to raise too, no doubt.

"Can she eat anything or will that upset the baby?"

"I don't feel hungry."

"Fine." He crossed his arms, why had he and Ryoko cooked at all if she wouldn't eat anything. Witch.

"Most pregnant woman aren't hungry during labor."

He just grunted, "I'm going to go eat. You be good," he nodded to his wife.

"Come back when you're done!"

"Sure."

"Shimatta," she cursed softly as he shut the shoji. He smirked, he was going to tell everyone innocent little Tokio had sworn like a drunken samurai during her pregnancy.

He and Ryoko didn't say much while they eat, just the occasionally "Please pass this" and "Thank you." Chopsticks settled beside empty dishes and hands folded into laps.

He watched Ryoko, feeling bored. "Want to clean the dirty clothes?"

"Sure…"

So he scrubbed while she hanged the clean clothes out to dry, expect when it was his or Tokio's under garments and Ryoko blushed like a little child at the clothing. He snorted, she really didn't act her age, in fact he wondered how old she was, early twenties. "When were you born?"

"1854, Goro-san, I'm twenty-two."

"Funny."

"What?"

"I'm ten years your senior."

She gawked, "You're that old!"

"I look good for my age, no?"

"I thought you were," she hesitated, "older…"

He made a displeased face at the insult, "Are you implying I'm a grandpa, girl?"

"No! I just meant…with your appearance…and…and…"

"So you're calling me old and ugly?"

She flushed, stuttering even worse than Morinosuke. "No. I…I…that's not…what I meant…at all."

He laughed at her befuddled expression, "I know what you meant, Ryoko-san. Just how old did you think I was though, I'm curious."

"Hm…Well I figured you were like…um…thirty-eight or nine."

He glared, "I'm insulted now."

She blushed, taking a few steps away she bowed deeply, her hair falling slightly from its neat arrangement. He rolled his eyes at her when he knew she couldn't see, didn't she understand when he was teasing her? Why did no one ever understand his sense of humor? Tokio recognized it occasionally, but everyone else seemed to always think he was offended. Did his voice not portray his amusement or something? Did he sound stoically even when cracking a joke? He wondered on this as he waved a hand at Ryoko, saying, "I'm not really insulted, stop that this instance."

She straightened and they continued their work. The sky was darkening and he remembered now that he should go into work and tell them he couldn't make it in. He dumped the soapy basin water out and took it inside. He grabbed his hat, jacket, and gloves. Walking out of his house he had his hat tucked under one arm as he slipped his gloves and jacket on.

"I'm going to the department to tell them I won't be in for my night patrol. Tell Tokio I'll be right back," Ryoko nodded her head, snapping the wrinkles out of one of her bright colored kimonos.

The department was nearly deserted, expect for a few lingering officers. Some were drinking tea at their desks, others half asleep over their paperwork, and two were talking by the refreshment table, snickering at some joke. He slapped a hand on the desk of one of the sleeping men, giving him a hard glare as he passed by. The man snapped awake, smiling like a half awake schoolboy. He knew when he left the man would probably go back to sleep. What moronic behavior would take place if he didn't keep these fools in line? Well Uramura could handle them for one night…he hoped.

Uramura as Police Commissioner had his own room. He knocked, waiting, "Come in!"

He came in and bowed. Uramura glanced at him wearily, inclining his head from where he sat. "Fujita-san, what brings you in early?"

"My wife has gone into labor, Uramura-san. I've come to request tonight and possibly tomorrow off if things can complicated."

Uramura lifted his head from his work, frowning at him. "Your wife?"

"I mentioned her in front of you and Okubo-san."

"Oh yes, I remember now. Takeko, Takiko, Takako, or was it Taeko?"

"Tokio," he corrected, "Tokio Takagi."

"I see. How come you never talked about her at work? Most of the men talk about their families."

"Safety reasons. I don't trust half the police officers here, particularly Meiji one's who might be out for former Bakufu Shinsengumi."

Uramura nodded his head, he himself had been a Meiji supporter, but he wasn't the type to attack another officer or citizen for such political disagreements. There was a time and place for hatred. "I understand. If the other officers ask I'll say you took a leave of absence for a family crisis. You can have this whole week off, come in on the twenty first on Monday as usual."

"I don't think―."

"Hush, Fujita-san, you'll want to spend time with them and seeing as you've never taken a day off since you joined the police department it isn't a hassle. Please leave now, I've got paperwork to finish here and you're distracting."

He bowed and left. Asshole. What was he going to do with himself for a whole week? He was going to go crazy with all that boring time off. He needed work, it was like his drug. He looked at work as most men looked at leisure time. In fact he'd never understand why some men complained about work, if they didn't like their occupancy why didn't they get another job, instead of being a nuisance to those who did? He figured he could always go into town and make sure order was being followed, whether or not he was on duty.

He found Ryoko waiting on the steps. She jumped to her feet when she saw him. "The midwife said the baby was getting close!"

"That so," he smirked and went inside. Tokio glared at him as he entered, hat and gloves disregarded in the living room. "I got a week off…I hate Uramura."

She shook her head, "You…" She took a sharp intake of breath. He sat down, taking her hand again.

"How close is the baby?"

"Her pangs are increasing and have little time between them now. Not much longer."

"You never came back after eating!"

"I went to the department first. Don't be angry. Just hope that brat gets out soon, eh?" She glared furiously at him before rolling her head away from him. She sat up a little, sighing, "I'm exhausted…I'm not having another child ever again!"

It was another hour before Tokio really began her labor and was working to push that little shit out. He sat, holding her hand, watching the midwives fuss about his wife and prepare for the new arrival. He put one hand around her shoulder, helping her sit up. She cursed, whimpered, and grunted. He watched the midwife, "Oh, just a little more, Fujita-san, push. I can see the head." The waiting was agonizing. Tokio kept pushing, cursing occasionally, and her hand tight in his. "There he is, he's out." Tokio gave a cry of joy, gasping for breath, her head resting on his chest.

The midwife took the baby before he could see anything more then a little pink foot. "Where are you going?"

"He needs to be cleaned, Fujita-san," the woman replied, "You can have him in a second."

He smiled, pressing his lips to Tokio's head, "How do you feel?"

"I'm so tired, Goro…" She sighed, her grip on his hand loosened, "I'm really glad it's all over."

"Is it a boy or girl?"

"Boy," the midwife swathed the baby in white and set him in Tokio's arms.

"Oh, he's beautiful." He glanced at the little nose and semi-closed eyes that he could see. Tokio pushed the cloth away from his face. Round pink cheeks, downy head of hair, his eyes sprinted closed, and his little pink lips gaping at them.

"I think he's kind of ugly."

"Goro!"

"I'm just being honest, but I guess as far as babies are concerned he isn't that ugly."

She smacked him on the head, there were tears in his wife's eyes. He sighed, "What are we naming him? I don't think Hiromasa suits him as a first name."

"Tsutomu."

"I like it. I wonder who came up with it." He raised a brow, grinning.

"Arrogant Miburo," she snapped, but her eyes and tone were love. So the newest member of the Fujita household Tsutomu Hiromasa Fujita was born February fifteenth, 1876.

* * *

Japanese Words This Chapter:

Akachan-'baby' in Japanese (Okita used it in chapter 23)

Ami no shiokara-same as Kai no shiokara but with shrimp

Arare-rice cracker flavored with soy sauce

Chazuke-'bubuzuke' is what a person from Kyoto would call it, cooked rice served with green tea, dashi, or hot water, for favor umeboshi, nori (seaweed), sesame seeds, etc can be poured on top

Ika no shiokara-same as Kai no shiokara but with cuttlefish squid

Kai no shiokara-oyster mixed with 10 percent salt and 30 percent malted rice. It's kept in an airtight container and fermented for a month

Shimatta- literally 'oh, no,' or 'damn'

Oolong tea-tastes more akin to green tea than to black tea, lacks rosy, sweet aroma of black tea and doesn't have the grassy taste of green tea, much stronger than white tea and leaves a pleasant after taste, favored in Japan and China

White tea-comes from camellia sinensis plant like green, oolong, and black tea, has a sweet mild taste to it and doesn't have the grassy taste of green tea

Umeboshi-pickled plum, extremely sour and salty, served in rice or stuffed inside rice balls, can be eaten plain

Yoshiwara-prostitution district in Tyoko, like the Shimbara district in Kyoto


	28. Chapter 28: Tokyo, 1876, Part 2

"So this is Tsutomu?" Morinosuke said as he looked into the eyes of the baby Tokio was holding.

Saito slurped his soba and took a drink of his oolong tea. "Just don't drop him," he told Morinosuke who took Tsutomu from Tokio.

"He's so cute!" Teruhime yelped, smiling. "Isn't he just the cutest? He must have gotten all of Tokio-san's genetics and none of Goro-san's."

Saito just glared at her, finished off his soba. Tokio spoke before he could, "Why don't we all―."

"Just go home, Maeko!" Hiroshi yelled, "I don't want to see you right now!" Hiroshi came into their house, pulling off his hat and gloves, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry I'm late everyone…"

"Is everything good with you and Maeko?" Katamori asked, looking concerned.

Hiroshi shrugged, "Everything…is fine." There was hesitation in his voice though. "Tokio you don't have to watch Genji-kun tomorrow."

"I wouldn't mind―."

"I said you don't have to."

Saito eyes narrowed at Hiroshi, his look hardening and then softening. "Want some sake," he went to grab the bottle.

"I could use some. It that little Tsutomu?" He smiled at the baby, picking him up. "Aren't you a handsome fellow? You got your mother's dark eyes, hm?"

"And his father's arrogance no doubt," Teru chirped in, grinning.

Saito came back, shooting Teru a look that said he'd heard her comment, before pouring him and Hiroshi a glass of cool sake. "Anyone else?"

Tokio shook her head, "Isn't Ryoko-san suppose to be back yet?"

"She should be."

"Ryoko-san?"

"Our new student. She's been here a couple months. You haven't met her Katamori-sama?"

"No, Tokio-kun. What's she like?"

"Better than Mariko-san."

Tokio laughed at her husband's remark, "She's very nice, works hard at her studies, and is organized. She keeps mostly to herself."

"She's cute," Morinosuke added, smiling.

Hiroshi downed his third glass of sake, frowning. "Tokio?"

"Yes, Hiroshi-sama?" She playfully tickled Tsutomu, smiling as he giggled. Saito shook his head, his wife was going to spoil that boy and make him weak if he didn't stop her.

"How did you stand it when Saito was married to Yaso?" Hiroshi drank another glass, his formalities all but forgotten.

She stared, surprised by the unexpected question. Should she answer that with everyone in the room? Teru had stopped laughing at the face Morinosuke was making for Tsutomu. Katamori set his tea down, looking at Hiroshi. Morinosuke's face became serious, looking slightly ruffled when Tsutomu pulled at his hair. No one moved and the silence in the usually loud house when everyone was there was disturbing. The sudden sound of a match striking the matchbox made everyone look at Saito. Calmly smoking a cigarette he shrugged at the stares he was getting, "So, Maeko-san did something to upset you? Let me take a guess here and say she married some dunce?"

Hiroshi looked away from Saito's soul peering eyes, downing another good glass of sake. "I have to admit I saw it coming… She was a tease, Hiroshi-san, and when she met that Hidekazu Amano she was no longer yours. Her heart was else where. Did you see no signs?"

Hiroshi's shoulders were shaking, "I loved her…You can't tell me I should just forget her!"

"I'm not saying that. Remembrance is good to a point, but you must realize she wasn't right for you. The sooner you realize that, the quicker you're recovery of this heartache will be."

Tokio stood and sat down next to Hiroshi. Saito's bluntness was truthfully painful and not what Hiroshi's would need right now. He needed to be comforted with a caring smile and tenderness, not Saito's cruel honesty. But she didn't blame her husband, he was making his best effort at comforting which was saying a lot about his respect for Hiroshi. If his respect had been any less she was sure he would have scoffed and ridiculed him instead. She had known her husband disliked Hiroshi and she'd always assumed it was because of Hiroshi proposal years ago, but she found herself wondering it there had been another reason. She tried to pinpoint when Saito's animosity towards Hiroshi had changed, but found herself not quite sure. She'd ask him later.

"Hiro-chan? It will be good again some day I promise. A lot of the time I was sad when I thought of Hajime with someone else…and it only hurt deeper the more I dwelled on it. We don't expect you to be happy right now, you can cry if you need to, Hiro-chan, no one would think less of you…" She stroked his hair softly, smiling, "You know we're all here for you."

"Tokio-san's right, Hiroshi-san," Teru smiled.

"I won't let you down buddy, let's drink tonight and enjoy ourselves?" Morinosuke said, finishing his tea and pouring sake into his cup.

Katamori smiled, patting Hiroshi on the back gently, "I've known love before, Hiroshi-san. Kiyo and Saku… I'll never forget those two wonderful ladies."

"The Idiot Brigade to the rescue," Saito drawled, smoking his usual cigarette, "but there is some reason in their stupidity, Hiroshi-san."

Tokio blinked, "Kiyo and Saku?"

"Oh yes, my concubines."

Morinosuke looked startled, "You had concubines?"

"Sort of."

"You are the man, Katamori-san!" Morinosuke said, "How did you manage two women at once?"

"I loved both women equally, but in different ways. Kiyo was a sweet thing and Saku had more of a wild streak… They balanced each other out nicely I think."

"Katamori-san!" Teru hissed, "Please tell me you're not serious…"

"About Kiyo and Saku?"

"I didn't know you had concubines. When was that?"

"They were more like secondary wives than anything. I think it was 1863 to 1868 about."

Tsutomu started crying and Tokio took him from Teru. "What's wrong, koishii?" She checked his butt, making sure he didn't need a changing. That didn't appear to be the problem. "Tsutomu's hungry. I'll be back," she went into their room to feed him.

"Saito, I hope my sister doesn't do all the dirty work…"

"Don't be ridiculous. Could you see me changing his diaper? Tokio and Ryoko do that…"

* * *

"Hajime can you take care of it," Tokio asked, rolling onto her side, "I'm exhausted…"

He sighed, snubbing out the cigarette he was smoking. He'd awaken from dreams and decided a nice cigarette before he went back to bed would be relaxing. Damn Tsutomu. He knelt beside Tsutomu's basket, pushing the blankets off. Picking the baby up, he glared into the dark brown eyes. The innocent eyes held his angry golden orbs. The poor little lamp didn't realize he was looking into the eyes of a predatory Wolf.

"Hm, what should a Wolf do with a cub? Why are you crying?" Tsutomu started sobbing, grunting and hollering. Saito always found himself surprised that such little lungs could produce so annoyingly loud cries. He glared, "Little brat." He felt around the boy's butt, sniffing it to find it smelled unpleasant.

He made a face, stood up with baby in his arms, and went to the toilet room. Tsutomu cried harder as he unpinned the stupid diaper cloth and began cleaning him. He glared at the baby, flicking him on the head softly when he wouldn't shut up. That only seem to piss the couple month old boy off and he cried harder, his wailing filling the whole house. Saito was grateful he didn't live in a row house or other tenet place because his neighbor's wouldn't have been pleased. He certainly wasn't happy.

"Shut up, Tsutomu!"

Tokio's voice flowed into the toilet room, "Try cooing or singing. He likes gentleness."

"You're kidding me, right?" Him sing? Or coo? Had she forgotten he was a Miburo and Miburo's didn't sing? Expect for Okita who he'd heard once or twice sing folk songs and Harada who when drunk had sung some perverse songs he'd heard while at Shimabara. Even if he'd wanted to attempt such a pathetic thing the only song he knew was one from his childhood about samurai. He wasn't even sure he remembered the tune or words correctly.

He took out a cigarette, watching Tsutomu's crying face. His hand twitched the cigarette around, his cool appearance turning into a smirk. Wouldn't the boy just stop crying eventually? Either his lungs would give way or he'd realize no one was coming to tend him. Hm… "Tokio, he won't shut up. Get in here and sing him a lullaby before I lose my temper and take to chopping up babies."

He picked up the clean diapered baby and found Tokio. She was fast asleep, one hand curled beneath her head, her black hair spread over her shoulders. He glared at her sleeping form. He set the now quiet Tsutomu down and went to the futon. Tsutomu started crying again as he shook her shoulders.

"Tokio, get him to stop!"

She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Tsutomu?" She went to the baby, picking him up into her arms. "Shush, my little Tsu-chan. Here let mommy sing you to sleep, my little koishii…" She cleared her throat and when she began singing her voice was still sleep laden and rustic. She was not what he'd consider an excellent singer, or even very good, in fact her voice wasn't even pleasant. But as he watched his wife cradle his son he thought she was the most beautiful creature in all of Japan. Even though her hair was messy from sleep, her nemaki half off one shoulder, and her face tired looking.

"Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms,

On Meadow-hills and mountains

As far as you can see.

Is it a mist, or clouds?

Fragrant in the morning sun.

Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms,

Flowers in full bloom.

Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms,

Across the Spring sky,

As far as you can see.

Is it a mist, or clouds?

Fragrant in the air.

Come now, come,

Let's look, at last!"

She smiled sweetly as Tsutomu drifted into sleep on her second time through the song. "That wasn't hard, Hajime," she whispered to him. "I'm just glad I remembered that song from when the neighbor's little one's sing it around their house. In fact I've sung it to Tsutomu a few times, I think he likes it," she dumped him into his basket and settled back in bed beside him.

"Tokio," he caressed her face and saw the flash of surprise in her eyes at his tender touching. Her eyes soon softened, molten amber met chocolate brown. A wolf flashed his sharp teeth and a flower bloomed with delight. "You are a silly woman and you're going to make Tsutomu a delicate weakling who can't even lift a sword. When he gets old enough I'm going to beat some manly sense into his little skull. For now he better be thankful he's just a baby."

"Oh, Hajime, don't kill Tsutomu before he reaches five."

"I'm not promising something I might not keep."

* * *

And do you really think Tokio would let Saito get away with not changing Tsutomu's at least every once and a while? I think in public Tokio would change his diaper, etc, because men just didn't do that, to them it was kind of degrading woman work. Even though it is the Meiji era and most traditions have been thrown out the window the simple fact that woman take care of the children and men work isn't completely outdated. Privately I can totally see Saito being the stern parent that will change diapers if he has too, but wouldn't want to on a regular basis. Of course it's Saito, so no way in hell was he going to start singing. Especially a song like the one here

A little note: the song Tokio sings is called Sakura Sakura in Japanese. The melody originated around the Edo Period and the current lyrics became attached in the Meiji Period. So its a song that was around that time period.


	29. Chapter 29: Tokyo, 1877, Part 1

So 1876 only had two parts since not much happened in the historial Saito's life expect Tsutomu's birth, of course Tsu's important, but he doesn't need a million chapters. Cute kid though. I also find I like writing about the Wolf's domestic life, even though the lack of action results in a slow read. Sorry to all the people who enjoy fighting scenes and their lack of appearance in here, there will hopefully be more fighting scenes scattered through out the story, but keep in mind this is a romance/general/historical thing...so I'm trying to keep with the real Saito's life time line as best as possible, adding my own creative take on what his life might have been like. Kenshingumi should be appearing soon, so that's a good thing to all those who love Saito and Kenshingumi interaction! I hope everyone enjoys this long chapter. R&R.

* * *

**Tokyo, Japan, 1877**

* * *

His wife hugged him tightly when he opened the shoji. "Oh, I can't believe you're an Inspector now, Hajime koishii, I'm so thrilled for you."

He shrugged, "It's not a big…" he saw that Tokio had invited everyone over, "deal. Why is everyone here?"

"Hiroshi-sama just returned from Osaka." After the bad break with Maeko Hiroshi had decided to leave. A few months away from Maeko and he looked more like his old self, Saito reflected, maybe Maeko hadn't been as serious as they'd all thought. Maybe she wasn't Hiroshi's one, he mused, maybe she was like Yaso in that she was just the girl who came before the real life changing one. "I figured now would be a good time for everyone to congratulate you and celebrate Tsutomu's birthday."

He grunted, sitting down. The Matsudaira clan were talking to each other and Morinosuke was laughing with Hiroshi. Tsutomu giggled in his basket, twisting and turning in the blankets. It was surprising to him that his son was already a year old. Five days ago actually.

"I hate birthdays," Saito grumbled, pulling out a cigarette.

Tokio picked up Tsutomu, smiling, "Happy birthday my little Tsu-chan."

"Ha…hat...hat…hat," his word came out like a mixture between the word hat and hot.

"Hat?" Morinosuke chuckled, "He likes hats?"

"I think he's trying to say hate," offered Teru, glaring at Saito, "Already rubbing off your 'good' qualities onto the kid, eh, Wolf boy? Soon he'll be smoking and sulking around the house I tell you Tokio-chan."

Tokio frowned at the one year old in her lap, "Don't start saying bad words, Tsu-chan. Can you say kachan or okasan?" She pointed at herself when he just stared blankly at her for a moment before becoming interested in Hiroshi. He crawled out of her arms and yanked at Hiroshi's hakama, wanting to be picked up.

"Otosan?" Morinosuke suggested, shrugging. "Okasama?" Tsutomu just looked at his uncle like he'd grown a third head.

"He's never going to learn to speak properly."

"You worry too much," Saito mumbled, blowing out smoke in annoyance, "He's got me for a father so he'll learn quickly enough and when he wants to."

"How many times must I tell you not to be so arrogant, Wolf boy," Teru said, shaking her head.

"About as many times as I must tell you to close your gaping hole for a minute." She just glared at him, her arms crossing over her chest. Saito smirked, "Now if you just stayed like that…"

"Shut it!"

"But you won't."

Saito's eyes narrowed and his hand slide to his katana just as a sharp knock sounded at the door. Hiroshi, busy throwing Tsutomu in the air, stopped his game and looked over at Saito. Katamori glanced at his sister who frowned. Morinosuke was at the toilet, he came out looking as oblivious as ever. Another sharp knock, clearly not the soft knock of Ryoko returning from her friends place, resulted in Morinosuke jumping nearly five feet in the air.

Without moving Saito called out, "Stop knocking or I'll knock you out, Nagakura! What do you want?" Tokio nearly spilled Katamori's tea into his lap at the critical tone in Saito's voice.

The shoji skid open as Nagakura and three other men vaulted into the room. Tokio glared, she'd just earlier in the day swept and carefully cleaning all the tatami mats by hand for Saito's promotion and Tsutomu's birthday. No way was she letting them get it all dirty. "Shinpachi Nagakura you will get out of this house immediately!" She yelled, not even taking into account that Nagakura and his men had their katana drawn. "Go take off your scandals or you're never going to be let in pass the entrance way ever again! Do you hear me?"

Nagakura stared at her frustrated face, glanced down at his scandals, scoffed from use but otherwise clean, and looked at Saito. Saito was busy smoking, one eyebrow raised at his wife's outburst, casually twisting his cigarette when he didn't have it at his lips. Nagakura knew when Saito was nervous; during the Bakumatsu he'd seen plenty of times when a half drunken Saito had twisted his sake glass in his hands. The only difference now was that it was a cigarette and not a cup. His throat grew tight, if Hajime Saito's own wife was unnerving him, that was scary crap right there. He started to back out slowly, watching the woman's brown eyes glare at his unmoving companions, who he noted had muddy scandals.

He grimaced as the man to his right said, "You're kidding me right? Don't ya see, lady, we ain't got time to be puttin' our scandals in the getabako…"

His voice dropped off as he saw that the woman had taken up Saito's wakizashi formerly leaning by the alcove. "Saito-kun, get your wife to back off, nh?" Nagakura didn't think this was going to end well.

"Not my problem. She's doling out justice I guess, besides I won't miss your sorry ass, Nagakura."

He hung his head, god damn prick. "Sorry, Fujita-sama," he hoped she noticed his polite honorific as he reached the shoji entranceway. His companions had started backing away from the advancing woman. "We didn't mean to intrude so disrespectful. Really, Fujita-sama. We have important news and we're sorry if we were rude. It's just…well…the Battousai," he looked Saito in the eyes when he said that name. He saw the flick of interest in them, the spark that longed for a good battle once more start blaze, the part of Saito that would always be a Wolf of Mibu.

"Tokio-san, come sit by me. You four go take your scandals off and then come back to explain to me why you're mentioning that name." Tokio heard the command in his voice, hard like steel; it left no room for debate.

She sat down beside him, recognizing that look in his eyes. She'd only seen it once on their wedding night when he'd been about to engage Nagakura in a fight. She knew what that look meant though. It was the Wolf bustling in excitement, the Wolf ready for the hunt of a hard opponent, the part in him that longed to lock blades and shred blood, even if it was his own. By fighting as he had once done during that chaotic time he was leaving, not a bunch of pretty flowers on a grave as most would, but his remembrance when the streets of Kyoto had run with spilled blood. Nine years ago now. Nine long bizarre years. 1868. It would be ten years next year since 1868. The tenth year of the Meiji.

Hiroshi cursed, staring at his finger. "Tsutomu just bit me."

"Really," Katamori asked, glancing at the baby. Morinosuke and Teru started laughing violently, saying that Tsutomu was growing fangs already. Saito glared.

Morinosuke waved his finger in Tsutomu's face, "He won't bit me, I'm his…ah! Chikushou! He bit me!"

"What were you saying?" Hiroshi looked pleased that Morinosuke had been bitten too. Teru shook her head, muttering something to Katamori who laughed. Nagakura and his friends came inside, all now rid of their scandals. She took Tsutomu from Hiroshi's lap as Morinosuke glared at him, murmuring about how his manners resembled Saito's too much.

"What were you saying about the Battousai before?" Saito demanded, snubbing out his cigarette. She watched his hard face, his eyes focused on some distant point of the room. She knew he was remembering times when he'd meet the Battousai in Kyoto.

"I was just going to say it's been confirmed, Saito," Nagakura was too engrossed to add the preferred -san or childish -kun he liked to use. "He's currently in Tokyo. He arrived not three days ago, but my men lost his scent, so to speak. We're combing the area, trying to pin point his exact location."

She watched his clutched hands grip his hakama with force, his knuckles turning bone white. He smirked, "That so. I won't believe it until I see that redhead in the flesh. Find where he's staying, Shinpachi, and alert me immediately."

"That was the plan. Before he came to Tokyo he was in Hiroshima. My men there said they saw no suspicious activity from him. He never once drew his sword there… My men in Nagoya reported the same about him when he was passing through a couple months back. Moji and Chiba men had nothing more concrete to offer either. I've been watching him for nearly three years, Saito, from what I've seen he hasn't killed anyone since Toba Fushimi… I'm beginning to wonder if he really has taken up a life of wanderer."

"A wanderer who doesn't kill," Saito sounded annoyed. "Don't be an idiot, Nagakura. This is the Battousai we're talking about. To protect others requires killing, other notions are futile ideas that will only get you and your loved one's killed. Nothing more and nothing less. If the Battousai has forgotten that… Aku Soku Zan…he is no longer worthy of respect and should have his life stuffed out," his last few words had a harsh twisted melody to them, a soft anger just below the controlled surface.

"Saigo's samurai have been acting up and the government wants to crush them quickly. They'll be sending men out soon and I heard that their will be police forces joining them. You'll have to work on your aim with a gun, nh?"

Saito snorted, "I hate guns. Efficient certainly in killing, but one doesn't need much skill with them, expect for aim."

"Hat," Tsutomu laughed, slamming his hands on his thighs, "Hat! Hat hat gun?"

"Oh, jeez, now he's saying gun too. He's got to stop listening to Saito-san talk. Say okasan? Okasan," she stressed each syllable out, but Tsutomu seemed oblivious to her teaching.

Nagakura laughed, "Funny cub you got yourself there, my Miburo buddy. Hey let's go out for sake again some time, Saito-kun. I liked our last outing. Same place? We can talk all about the old times, Okita-san, Hijikata-san, and Kondo-san."

"I'm not interested."

"Sure. Just send a note to the Yagi house if you change your mind. Oh you know their youngest kid, he remembers when we all spent time there. He even mentioned remembering an," Nagakura emphasized his next couple words, "ugly, antisocial, creepy Shinsengumi captain… Hey do you think he meant you?"

Saito's eye twitched slightly, "No, Nagakura, he meant Hijikata-san."

Nagakura laughed, "Oh I guess he kind of fits the bill, expect for the ugly part. Hijikata-san may have been ill tempered at times, Saito-kun, but he certainly had looks ladies swoon over…"

"You sound like Todo-san."

Nagakura glared, but it was mock teasing, "Don't even mention that weirdo. Do you remember the time where Todo-san tried to ambush Okita-san and make him give him a kiss? That was hilarious."

"It was the first time I felt bad for Okita-san. I wouldn't want that after me," Saito shook his head, "For once I was thankful I'm ugly."

Nagakura laughed violently, "Hey do you remember when Okita, Kai, and me…"

She listened to them talk about their times in the Shinsengumi. A part of her was wondering how Saito had claimed he hadn't been happy back then, how he'd told her he was happy now, but she could tell Saito and Nagakura remembered those times wistfully. Nagakura did most of the talking, but she saw the look of happy remembrance in her husband's eyes and wondered…if he would look back at his married life years from now and have the same look in his eyes. Sure he said he was happy now, but she knew he missed the chaos of the Bakumatsu at times.

She knew she could never share in that part of him, it would always be a rift that she could feel between them, a part of him that he kept mostly to himself, aside from the occasional mention here or there. She knew more about that part of him than their friends, but not Nagakura. Nagakura had been there, had bleed and fought insurmountable odds by his side. Where had she been? Far away in a castle, living an easy existence while her husband risked his life for her and others. While his friends died and he lived… Echigo providence, which he'd never once brought up in conversation, was still there with him like a dark shadow. She knew when she opened her eyes and saw him smoking a cigarette late at night where his thoughts were. He was miles from Tokyo and more than five years back in time.

And she knew no manner how happy the last three years were they could not rid him of the darkness of the last fifteen.

She picked Tsutomu up, "He needs to be changed." No one stopped her. No one noticed she'd lied. Hiroshi, Katamori, Nagakura, and Saito all lost in memories. Teru and Morinosuke happily chatting about something or other.

Why did she care? Why did it bother her so to think of that time before she'd known Hajime? Why didn't it upset her to know about Hiroshi and Katamori's past? She knew the gist of their pasts, but she'd never cared to know more. He was her husband…but that still didn't give her the right to peer into closets he kept closed even to himself. Why ask him and upset him just because she was too curious? No, she couldn't out right ask him about those times… She'd wait for him to speak as she always did. He'd leave little hints about his Shinsengumi days, brief things about an event or something.

She knew the Shinsengumi time line, knew about the Ikedaya incident and several other well known things like Kinmon no Hen, but she wished Saito would confide in her. If he never let it out, even to himself, he'd always be plagued by the past. Even if he talked to about it to Nagakura, even if it wasn't to her as she so desperately wanted, she knew he needed to talk about it before it all exploded in him.

She set Tsutomu down, cradling his head, smiling. A thought crossed her mind. Had she ever talked to him about 1868? Really talked to him… No. She'd mentioned it, she'd even said a few things to him about it that she'd not mentioned to anyone else. Was that why he didn't speak about it because she hadn't spoken about her past? She was just as guilty as he was in burying it. She nodded her head forcefully, she'd talk to him tonight. Tell him all about the past. She was over it, she had been now for almost four years, she could talk about it, she could cry about it, and she would finally just remember it as merely a time in her life that had hurt.

She smiled at her baby, wondering if he'd have times in his life where he'd face the kinds of fighting his father had. She hoped not but if he did, she hoped he'd be able to be happy despite the pain of such memories. She checked his diaper, so maybe she hadn't lied about him needing to be changed.

Saito watched Morinosuke and Ryoko leave, slightly worried, sipping the last of his tea. That was the last of the Idiot Brigade. He frowned realizing that Tokio had taken far too much time simply to change Tsutomu's diaper. He rose swiftly and deciding to be helpful he went about picking up the cups and saucers for tea. He dumped them in the soapy water to be washed and rolled up the sleeves of his kimono, frowning deeper.

"Tokio?" There was a shuffle behind the shoji of their room and another candle was being lit. He frowned, "Everyone left. I'm going to start on the dishes… Is Tsutomu being a pain?"

He waited, sticking his arms into the warm water. "Tsutomu isn't a pain, Hajime. Where's Ryoko-san?"

"Gone out with your brother. I don't like the idea that those two are spending time together. I don't think Morinosuke should be getting too close to our student. What do you think?"

"Oh, let them. I like Ryoko-san, she's a nice girl and well mannered. She'll help shape Morinosuke up."

"Humph." He started on the dishes, quickly and efficiently scrubbing, rinsing, and drying. There wasn't much to clean, but his mind needed the release of work. He cracked his neck, frowning at the bubbly water. A white saucer somewhat in the shape of a face idled by his hand. Okita. Hijikata. Kondo. Harada. There faces appeared before his vision. Okita smiling mockingly as Hijikata with raised eyebrow wondered what he'd done now. Kondo laughing at something funny in his book and pointing it out to Yamanami who laughed in kind. Harada jabbing Nagakura in the side and making a wisecrack to Okita about Todo's habits of taking cute boys. Okita coming over to him and asking him to keep Todo away with his ugliness, him glaring the boy down until he backed away laughing.

He shook his head, stupid memories. Stupid Nagakura. Why couldn't he have died also? Nagakura being around was a bad thing, he reminded him too much about the past. Of all the captains alive still it would have just been him and Suzuki Mikisaburo, captain of the ninth unit. Every other captain from one to ten was dead and gone expect him, Nagakura, and Mikisaburo. He frowned, why couldn't Nagakura bug Mikisaburo instead? Hm. Oh right, Suzuki Mikisaburo was Ito Kashitaro's brother and hadn't Nagakura mentioned he'd tried or was trying to kill him? Hm… maybe those two would just kill each other and he'd be the only one left. The thought that he'd be the only captain of the Shinsengumi left put a sour taste in his mouth. He scrubbed harder at the dish in his hand, realized he'd already cleaned it, and wiped it dry in annoyance.

He finished the dishes, rolled his sleeves down, dried his hands, and went to their room. Tokio was combing her black hair as she sat in the futon. Tsutomu was fast asleep in his basket a short distance from the bed. The candle she'd lit earlier and the other one gave the room a nice glow, her face and eyes more proponent in the light. She looked up and he found himself smirking. She looked so innocent and pretty as her brown eyes met his.

He walked over and settled down beside her. He kissed her cheek, savoring the little shudder he felt rock her slender frame. He worked his way down her neck and shoulder with hard kisses, becoming more eager in his pursuit. She pulled away and stood, he watched her with growing excitement as she pinned her hair with fumbling fingers. Hm… Her hands were shaking. They were usually so steady and quick at putting her locks into a bun. Not like they were now.

He frowned, attentively scrutinizing her as she let wisps of hair lay where they may. She usually swiped up any wayward hair and either pin it back with little hair clips or smoothed them down, even if it was just for bed. He sat up from his slouching posture, his eyebrows coming together as she just ignored them. He knew when someone was nervous, particularly his Tokio.

"What's on your mind, Tokio?"

"Hm?" She turned away from leaning over Tsutomu, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "Why would you think something's wrong, Hajime?"

"You're acting strange. Come here." She made sure Tsutomu was comfortable and still sleeping before coming over to the futon. She laid down, pulling the blankets over them, her movements slow and deliberate. He frowned as she kissed his neck softly, her lips wet and lingering. He felt the urge to ravage her wash over him, especially when she pushed his kimono down and pressed her warm mouth to his collar bone like that. He let out a growl of pleasure before saying her name, "Tokio…"

Wait a second… she was distracting him with thoughts of love making. That little witch. There was no way she was getting out of telling him what was wrong. He grabbed her wrist and pinned her to the bed, her slim fragile body trapped under his masculine one. He smirked, "What's wrong my manipulating witch of a wife?"

"I…" She hesitated, his wife who rarely hesitated. She was starting to make him nervous. "I want to talk to you about 1868."

"1868?"

"Yes."

"What about it," he asked stiffly.

She leaned her back on the futon, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. He listened quietly as she began talking. Her voice was soft, her eyes filled with vivid memories, memories that the years should have washed away, that they would have if the images hadn't been so engraved into her mind because of the horror of them.

She recounted the men, young and old alike, she saw die daily, either from artillery wounds, gun wounds, or sword injures. Some were dead long before they got to them, others had struggled for life and failed after they'd arrived. She recounted the bodies mounting up in the wells after all the grave areas were taken. She told him of every detail she remembered. A torrid of smells, gunpowder, the iron smell of new blood and the worse smell of old blood, and the decaying smell of the bodies all around. The sounds, almost as bad as the constant smells, bombing rattle of the artillery, shrieks of men and woman, and babies crying out in terror. The whimper of a women dying in her arms. She'd been caught in the fire of a building caused by artillery being launched into the city. The woman reached up and pressed her bleeding hand to her cheek, her fingers lightly touching her lips before falling. She was dead. She remembered the taste of blood in her mouth, a taste like iron or copper she wasn't quite sure.

The images were the worse part of it all. She could stuff out the smells, suffocate the cries, and drown out the taste, but not the images. She told him all she could recall after all these year. The images had started to fade gradually over the years, but they came back like living things, demanding to know why she'd neglected them.

Bodies upon bodies, legs and arms at odd angels, heads rolled in strange unnatural directions. Her hands had shaken with effort as she helped heave another body onto the mount starting to spill over from the latest well. A dead man leaning in an alley, another sprawled out in the middle of the street yet to be moved, a woman's copse lying in between an open shoji, her body half outside and in.

Saito was silent. She took a breath, her throat felt dry and her eyes felt heavy with tears. She looked at him. He was glaring at something beyond her, his amber eyes trying to smother the darkness with their intensity. She touched his cheeks, starting him out of his revere. He looked at her wearily, "Why tell me any of this?"

"I wanted you to know. I wanted to tell someone. I thought you'd understand."

He didn't move, his eyes closing. "There was no need to tell me."

"I felt compelled to tell you. I'm over it." She sat up, gently pushing his tense shoulders onto the futon. He opened his eyes, she staring down into them. "Are you over your own, Hajime?" He didn't reply, but his tension and silence was all the answer she needed. "You can talk to me… It's not right, it's not good… You're only hurting yourself more."

"I don't feel any pain at those memories."

"None… You shouldn't feel numb. Hajime―." He kissed her, cutting off her words. She lay against him, feeling his hands untie her obi and push off her kimono and juban with burning desire. She shivered in the cold. He pulled her under the blankets and stood, undressing himself. She was silent, waiting. He slipped under the warmth of the blankets, drawing her soft body to his. He kissed her neck, her jaw, and her cheeks. He turned her head to face him so he could kiss her lips. She sighed as he pulled away. He grabbed her and pressed her back to his chest, his strong arms tightening around her.

"How many times must I tell you, Tokio? You're innocent, you shouldn't know about those times."

"Tell someone. Anyone you like, just talk."

"Did it help you?"

"Yes."

"Humph."

"I feel better about it. I have for a long time. These past years of happiness have done wonders for those bitter memories. I won't forget…ever probably, but at least I'm on levelly terms with them." He didn't reply, kissing the back of her neck.

"I promise I'll tell you someday, Tokio, just not now. I'm not ready yet."

* * *

Japanese words for this chapter:

Chikushou-'damn you' in Japanese

Okasama-most formal way of saying mother

Okasan-mother in Japanese, more formal than kachan

Otosan-father in Japanese

Kachan-less formal way of saying mother than Okasan


	30. Chapter 30: Tokyo, 1877, Part 2

"We'll leave for the front on May eighteenth. Be prepared for war, men, Saigo isn't likely to go down easily." Uramura said no more and went back into his room.

Saito pulled out a cigarette, lighting it, frowning. It was early May. How could he handle this? Hm… How to tell her… He took a drag, staring at the officers who were talking in excitement about their upcoming deeds. He snorted, most of them wouldn't live pass the first few shots. They'd be dead long before they ever committed any acts of glory.

One of them heard his noise and glanced over at him. He smirked, "If you idiots are done chatting about like hens we have work still here that needs to be done. Get to it." The officers resumed working after some grumbling about his superiority complex and gruffness. He shook his head, idiots and went back to his own room. Sitting at his desk he was thankful the walls and door blocked out the noise of the rest of the police department.

He looked over the figures on the paper before him, his cigarette idly burning down. He went to take a drag only to find it was nearly done with. He made a face and pressed it into the side of the ash tray. He didn't reach for another cancer stick, knowing it would be wasted much like the first.

Paperwork needed to be filled out, convicts needed to be executed or released, and all this had to be done within the days before their departure. Sure some officers would remain to keep the peace in Tokyo, but a large force was leaving too much work for those they'd leave behind. Getting as much done as possible would benefit not only those left at the station, but he'd have less paperwork when he got back.

Tokio. How to tell her he was leaving? There was no doubt in his mind that he'd be away for at least a couple months. Wars were not easily won and Saigo had a lot of supporters. She would not be happy about his leaving, but she would deal with it.

In appearance Tokio looked very much to be the ideal wife, subservient and gentile. Good qualities abound in her fragile figure and neat display. But he knew the hard steel she was made from, the way she'd trudge on while other woman with similar appearances would not. He loved her resilience and her conviction. It was what attracted him at first and still did. She'd been too trusting when he'd first met her, but she was quicker now with judging enemies from friends and didn't completely trust strangers as she'd once had. She still carried that kaiken, even though he'd told her he didn't want her too. He saw the sense in protection, but he didn't want her to wield a weapon and kill. She was innocent and he would make sure it stayed that way. He'd slay any enemies with his blood strained hands, not her pure hands that had only touched the blood of wounded.

She'd always been overly kind, generous, and considerate, the last being the thing he noticed about her first. So she would endure his leaving because she knew it was necessity and because she knew his duty to Aku Soku Zan. She'd hurt herself with her considerate nature, he mused, if she'd been a lesser woman she'd tell him to stay. But not her. Never Tokio.

She'd never tell him her secret dislike for his motto, but he saw it in her eyes when he said those words. She was just trying to protect him from killing, from adding another wound that bleed in his heart, and he respected and loved her all the more for that. But that motto was engraved in him and he would never stop following it until death. He knew Tokio tried to get him to see there was no need for it, but he knew apart of her hesitated because there was a need for it. There would always be corruption and there would always be the need for someone to deliver justice. Once she'd tried to convince him to let someone else do the executions in the name of Aku Soku Zan, but he'd just shaken his head. By doing that he'd let another person sully their hands and he couldn't allow that because of the same motto that bound him. No, there was no need to make another faithful to Aku Soku Zan when he was enough, he wouldn't surrender his motto to live a peaceful life. A life full of peace for a time meant nothing if it would be snatched away in the next instance. He would not allow his happiness to be taken away because he was too weak to fight the enemy that would eventually come knocking. Tokio had to understand that. She did.

He lit another cigarette, his mood bleak today. He swiveled in his chair, facing the window at his back. A very fine day outside and he was cooped up in the department while Tokio was probably outside harvesting their little garden out front. Hm… She would probably be sweaty and red faced as she always got from work and her damp hair would stick to her face. He took a drag of his newly acquired cigarette, smirking. Tokio would smile when he got home and he'd smirk, complaining about being tired… She'd follow him to their room and well…he'd enjoy his time before he had to leave the comfort of his wife. How could he tell his silly wife he'd leave May eighteenth?

* * *

"May eighteenth?" Tokio echoed in their room after dinner, watching her husband as he rummaged through his things.

"Yes," he murmured, "We'll be sailing down to Kyushu. Chief Inspector Hagiwara Sadamoto has gone on ahead to finish preparations. I'm to have a small command myself, a force of more than a hundred men. We should…" He stopped when he heard not even a little noise from Tokio. Silence with her was not a good sign. She'd usually bustle around the room or sat down with her hands in her lap, not pure silence when she wasn't speaking. Trying not to tense, he said stiffly, "Tokio, what is it?"

"How many forces does Saigo have?"

"Our estimate is 30,000 thousands give or take a couple thousand. Of course some men are still flocking to his side. Why?"

"How many does the Meiji have?"

"Easily over 65,000. Why?" She was moving now which was better, but she wasn't alright. He turned as she came over and found the fundoshi he'd been looking for. He frowned at her, "I should have told you before now, but I didn't want to cause you prolonged unnecessary pain."

"So you waited until May fifteenth?" Her words were harsh to his ears as she found the hakama he'd still be searching for. She handed him the garments and shut the drawer.

"Don't be angry."

"I'll consider it if you do me a favor."

"What?" He was skeptical, hoping uneasily that she meant futon things and not anything else.

"You have to wear your old uniform before you leave."

"Huh."

"You heard me."

"You still have that thing?"

"Yes."

"I thought I threw it away after that day."

"I paid more ryo for that thing then I'd like to admit to so I kept it. Besides you promised me I'd get to see you in it at least one time remember?"

He had said that, hadn't he. He hated to admit it, but he had a feeling if he told her no he wouldn't get any futon time in before he had to leave. After having gone through the hard straight couple months without it during Tokio's pregnancy he was not looking forward to leaving even more. He'd at least had Tokio nearby during her pregnancy but when he left he'd be alone at night. He sighed, she was being tricky. He could just visit the pleasure district instead… Yoshiwara never slept…

He sighed, giving her a defeated look. Did he look like a wolf with his tail between his legs? He growled out in annoyance, "Make sure all the shoji are shut and Ryoko-san isn't here before I even consider doing it. And our acquaintances," he emphasized the word, "better not be anywhere even remotely nearby."

Tokio laughed, her drooping shoulders pushing back in her excitement as she left to fetch it. At least he'd pleased her. He sat down before the futon. She was going to be in pain after this, he was going to mark her whole body with love marks and she'd do her fair share of work tonight. Malicious thoughts of making her do all the work tonight crawled through his annoyed brain as he waited. She came back with the cursed bundle of his nightmares in her hands. He'd taken his jacket, gloves, and hat off prior to sitting down for dinner earlier. He slipped his shirt off and started on his trousers, giving his smiling wife his best demonic glare. She pulled out the blasted juban, her smile never faltered as she handed him the offending garment. He hated her right now, oh how he did.

He put the juban, the tie to keep the juban closed, and kimono on, working slower then was necessity just to annoy her. He tied on the white obi before she handed him the tasuki. Sliding it under one sleeve and around his head to the other sleeve he let Tokio knot it for him and arrange it properly. He took the hakama from her next, working on the wrapping the himo around his waist and tying them into ribbons in the front and back. One thing he could say about the Western style of clothing, it was so much less work to put on. She held up the haori, smiling like she found his reaction to the toxic clothing of his past funny. He was going to hurt her if she didn't stop messing with him.

"Tokio, this is not funny."

"But you look so handsome, Hajime koishii. Make sure you put on the headband too."

He glared as she made him don the headband. She smiled, "You look good, Captain."

He rolled his eyes, "I feel like an idiot. Can I undress now?"

Tokio's grin, he thought distrustfully, meant she was having too much fun with this. "I want to fantasize some more, shut up and do a few sword swishing moves for me… I'm really excited about the outfit."

He made a face, "Hell no. I'm not some kind of pupp―." She kissed him hard across the mouth. His Tokio who was anything but rough. He grabbed her around the waist, but she pushed him away laughing.

"Please do some sword moves."

"No."

"Please?"

"I said no."

"Fine no futon stuff before you leave." Damn. She'd figured his intentions out, but then again they probably weren't too hard to guess at.

He raised his arm and brought it down, hoping that pleased her. She looked like she was going to faint. He sighed, "Can I change now? And where the heck is Tsutomu?"

"Hm…"

"I asked where Tsutomu is."

"Sorry you just look so good in your uniform. Tsu-chan's with Ryoko-san. They went to see Morinosuke-chan."

"So we're alone?"

Her eyes grew suggestive as she looked him up and down. He grabbed her and began kissing her cheek, pushing her kimono down a bit so he could get to her neck. "You have to let me call you Captain Hajime."

"No."

"Please?"

"No way in hell. You already have me dressed up like an idiot. I'm not debasing myself further. I'll just go to Yoshiwara."

She laughed, "Fine, Inspector Hajime."

He glared, "Don't even think about it." He flicked off the headband with a chuckle, working off her annoyingly complex obi. Buddha be damned if he didn't get her undressed quickly and have his way with her. He couldn't stand the way she was looking at him in this uniform. Tokio didn't become lustful easily, but she'd told him she loved his figure in his police getup so he guessed the Shinsengumi outfit was doing about the same thing.

"Oh, Hajime koishii," she whispered rather breathlessly, her lips touching his adam's apple. "I'll forgive you for leaving later because you dressed up for me. It really gets me―."

"Shut up already," he kissed her quiet, resisting his persistent urge and using that energy he began working on his clothing. He really hated how long it took to undress from his Shinsengumi uniform, his police uniform was not only ease on the movements but so much easier to get out of.

* * *

"Hajime?" He didn't respond, taking a pull on his cigarette. She slid her arms around his shoulders. He tensed for a second before relaxing. It was just Tokio. Not the nightmarish arms of the Battousai or other Ishin Shishi come to strangle him from behind.

"What?" He finally venturing, taking another slow mind numbing drag.

"I want you to know," her head rested on his right shoulder, her lips close to his ear, and her hands gripping his shoulder blades. "I want you to know I'll miss you. Tsu-chan would too if he was older and I'm sure a small part of him will realize your disappearance at least…"

"Humph."

"Don't―."

"Get killed," he took another drag, watching the smoke rise from the corner of his lips. "I don't make promises I might be unable to keep, but I'll fight to come back. You shouldn't worry though. I've been around this long so I'm bound to have at least a few years left. Some minuscule rebellion isn't going to put this Wolf of Mibu down in his grave."

Her fingernails dug into his back, he could feel the limbs attached to her hands shake. She made a whimpering sound occasionally, trying desperately to squash her tears. He didn't like the soft sound of pain coming from his wife. "I'll be fine, Tokio," he said this more forcefully then his half joking words of moments before.

"If you die….if you die…Hajime," she kissed his cheek as he turned around. Her face was white, her eyes wide and blood shot, and her nose runny. If it had been another time he would have laughed and teased her about her tear streaked face. Not now though, not when she'd cried over him.

"I'll be as carefully as possible," he put his palm to her cheek, smiling. "Come here," he pulled her into his arms, her head collapsing onto his chest as her thin arms went around his waist. "Don't worry, Tokio…Sada…"

She sighed, "You haven't called me Sada in a long time."

"I assure you I'm just saying it now to make you better. Or I'm merely interested in another round of what we were doing earlier. You'll never know, Sada."

She laughed in his arms, "Shut up, Hajime Yamaguchi!"

He growled, "Don't use that last name again, woman or you'll find yourself in a precarious situation."

"Precarious? Oh really?" She laughed as he pushed her back onto the futon, chuckling in the dark as the Wolf descended onto its prey.

* * *

May eighteenth. The sky was decent with only a few shattered clouds, but the air was humid. His undershirt was sticking to his skin and he felt a trickle of sweat slide down his trouser leg, but ignored it, much more focused on the woman in front of him.

"Tokio," he said her name, just her name as they stood in the entrance way.

"Yes, Hajime," her voice was softer than usual.

"Why did you want to know the number of combatants for the fighting?"

"Oh…"

"Well," he didn't have much time. Tsutomu was sitting at their feet, his snoring the only noise as his wife wrung her hands.

"I just figured if the enemy had a lot of targets besides you it would be less likely you'd get hurt… It was beyond selfish…but I… Don't die."

He pulled out his pack, finding three left. He went to grab one when his wife stopped him, taking the package from his hands. "What are you doing?"

"Let me keep these. You can get more at the station. I know you keep some there. I…just don't ask why."

He smiled, knowing she wanted them for a silly sentimental thought. He reached down to Tsutomu, touching his son's head with nimble fingers, watching the sleeping face. His son had grown quickly over the last year and couple months. He hadn't expected to feel proud of his son, he'd not really done anything to garner that emotion yet, but for some reason it came along with the love he felt for the boy. His Tsutomu, his worker. He was sure his son would make him proud in the years to come and soon he'd even be talking and walking. Likely he'd miss that while he was away.

"Tell me what his first word is and when he starts walking when I get back," he told Tokio as he stood.

"You won't miss it."

He didn't contradict her words, nodding his head. She'd worn a gray kimono, blue ribbons and obi. He recalled this fact later as he sat with the other officers at the station waiting to depart to the port. Drab colors were not usually her thing, but she'd worn the gray so that when he saw steel he'd think of her. Smart woman. He didn't want to be reminded of her as he cut down men who probably had wives' just as annoyingly sentimental and sweet as his. Silly Tokio.

* * *

Japanese words for this chapter:

Himo-string used to tie clothing, used on hakama and other Japanese clothing

Tasuki-a cord used to hold back the sleeves of a kimono, suppose to keep the sleeves from interfering with movement

Ryo-old Japanese money used before the yen


	31. Chapter 31: Tokyo, 1877, Part 3

So I found this chapter hard to write, hm... Anyway I was watching some of the Kenshin anime again and found it strange when in episode 56 after Kenshin beat Aoshi Saito appeared and they started a conversation. I was just wondering how the heck they knew each other as I couldn't remember them meeting in the anime. I suppose they could have guessed at who the other was, I mean a police officer in the shrine otherwise, but I was just curious as to how Aoshi knew Saito... I guess he could have heard about Saito or something...eh... It wouldn't surprise me if Saito knew about Aoshi, I can totally see him keeping tabs on even Aoshi after the Megumi arc in season one because's he's dangerous and he did after all keep tabs on Kenshin so whatever, it's not really a big deal. I got my inspiration for the ending scene of this chapter from watching the part of episode 56 with Saito in it. I hope everyone enjoys and R&R thank you.

* * *

He cut down a rebel, his sword severing the head from the body. He turned in time to avoid a sword slash that would have killed a slower target. He brought his sword down onto the man's back, slicing him into two halves in the gut. Another idiot came from the right and he brought his katana up to block. Kicking the man in the chest he fell back into two other men who were fighting. The officer finished off his current opponent and killed Saito's disregarded one with little struggle.

Getting a quick nod from the other police officer he turned back to the three rebels charging at him in union. He ducked a swipe from the man on the left, kicking him as far away as possible. He drew up to where the one on the left had been and stabbed the middle man in the side, watching the blood pool around his hand, some spurting out onto his uniform.

He lunged back as the corpse collapsed, the last man leaped over the dead one, hollering his battle cry. If he'd been a lesser adversity he would have run off in fright, but these were samurai. Samurai that would die with their pride rather than run away and save their hides. Men with pride he could respect. He killed him swiftly, making sure it was painless. Rebels they were, but they followed the strict code of Bushido like he did. They deserved good bloody ends with their pride intact. He could offer quick deaths as his way of showing respect.

He backed against a nearby wall, watching as several other officers' followed suit. He heard screaming from beyond, yells of victory cut short by death, and the anguished moaning of those who hadn't been killed by their wound yet. He sighed, ripping the sleeve of his jacket. He didn't like the idea that he was ripping his uniform, but he needed to bandage the wound on his leg. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten it. He wrapped it tightly, tying it into a knot. He straightened, glancing to the others resting behind the shelter of the wall. They'd followed the main road through the Fukuhara pass and had engaged the enemy at Yakio. The plan was to push the rebels toward Mt. Takayuka where the others were fighting.

He frowned, pulling out his pocket watch. The gold was rusting and it made a sharp click as he opened it. The glass over the clock face had been replaced more times than he cared to remember and he'd have to get it cleaned again soon. But it still worked after all these years.

So they'd been fighting for over three hours. His body was starting to feel the stress he was putting on it. A little reprise here for all of them before dashing back in. He put it back in his breast pocket. He went back in after another minute of letting his exhausted body rest. There would be no rest for evil so he couldn't dally.

He cut a young man in two, watching through the rain of blood the commander of the rebels. It wasn't Takamori Saigo. Saigo was probably at Mt. Takayuka right now engaging the rest of the Meiji army with his little band of disillusioned samurai. There was no doubt in his mind that Saigo would die in this battle. It was merely a matter of time before he heard the news that was all.

He crouched down into Gatotsu, smirking at the commander that stood as rigid as a pole. Poor guy was probably scared stiff, but that didn't surprise him much. He was frightening even on a good day, covered in blood in his police uniform and in his Gatotsu stance he was surprised the man had enough bravery not to wet himself like a child. He was about to spring in for the kill, about to yell as he charged, but it never came. He was on the ground, staring up at the sky. As he'd fallen he spotted the sniper lowering his weapon, a large arrogant grin on his face. He'd wipe that grin off when he got back up.

He went to move, cursing as he sat up. Some of the other officer had taken up defensive positions around their fallen commander. He stood slowly, glancing at the sniper briefly before glaring at the rebel's commander. He couldn't make out any distinct details in the man's face from this distance, but he knew the look in the man's eyes. The eyes of a frightened rabbit about to get his neck snapped in half by the teeth of a vicious Wolf. A rabbit should not attack a Wolf. Those idiots were dead.

He went for the sniper first as he was more liable to attack him if he went for the commander. The boy was busy loading his gun, hands shaking as he glanced at him on the ground, not expecting he'd be able to make such a leap. Crouching into Gatotsu, smirking maliciously, he leaped at the sniper. He saw the petrified look, the shaking hands and white face. The gun rose to shoot him again as he landed on the roof. He dodged the bullet, smirking with satisfaction at the fertile attempt at his life. He even gave the sniper enough time to try to escape or draw his sword. The boy, for he was likely only about fifteen, shouldn't have been fighting. Likely his father or brother had joined Saigo's army and he'd tagged along. Stupid kid. His blade hit the light armor the boy was wearing, thrusting all the way through his stomach and out his back. With a clean flick of his wrist he sent the body off his blade and down the shingles of the roof to the ground.

"Demon!" Screamed one of the rebels below.

He shrugged, turning around, "Anyway who lifts a weapon, be it child or man, is a potential enemy and knows the consequences of his actions. To lift a sword is stating your intent to kill. He would have done the same to me if our roles had been reversed."

He didn't need to explain himself to enemies that would soon be dead, it was futile. The boy had understood the risk involved and if not he was an idiot. He ran the length of the roof and dropped down in front of the commander. The man stared in gaping surprise, he smirked with pleasure.

"How are you still standing?" The man stammered his words, "How? Etsuo shot you!"

"He did but," he flourished the pocket watch from his breast pocket, "my little trinket here saved me a bit of trouble." The bullet had gone through the metal covering of the clock face and had gotten lodged near the second hand just below the eight.

The man realized the danger he was in and Saito, chivalrous individual that he was, let the commander draw his sword. "I'm going to kill you," spat out the man, his hands clutching his saber.

"I believe those are my words," he sidestepped the attack. His sword connected with the man's temple, his sword slicing through the skin, brain, and substances in the way. He raised his blade and brought it down sharply to shake off the blood, watching his former adversity's lifeless body collapse into the dirt. He didn't turn to acknowledge his new opponent.

"How dare you kill both young Etsuo and our Commander! You'll die for that!"

"Revenge," he turned as the man leaped at him, "is a stupid reason to die." Their swords connected, clashing violently. The man's arm shook as Saito forced him off, he came again quicker then Saito would have given him credit for and he could do nothing but parry. The man pressed his advantage, making Saito lose a step to block a blow that would have decapitated him.

He took stock of his surroundings. He'd gone out further than he'd wanted too from most of the other officers. Some rebels were nearby finishing off one last officer, who if they were not complete fools, should team up and rush him. He couldn't handle all of them and if nothing else they'd wound him. He had to get out of this situation fast. There were plenty of officers near enough to help, but they were preoccupied with their own troubles. He was in a shitty position.

He'd watched the man from the corner of one eye as he examined the situation. The man had a previously acquired wound on his right arm and a nice looking gash on his right leg too. The man had lost a lot of blood much to his advantage.

He had the thin cut on his leg, nothing more than a scratch in his mind, but one that Tokio would have considered more serious. He didn't let her image come to his mind; it was not the time to dwell on his wife. He kept in mind his enemies' wound, he'd press them later if need be, and knew his enemy, a middle aged man with dark brown hair and light brown eyes, sized him up as he'd just done. He was not facing a boy who was too inexperienced to know truly how to fight nor an idiot who was too stupid to fight back.

"How do you have so much strength left?"

"I pride myself in staying alive, I'm no pushover."

The man had noticed his advantage with his rebel friends and invited them over with a nod. Any edge one could get that would help one stay alive would be used. He gave the man his due for not only recognizing the usefulness of his rebel buddies but for utilizing them. Some men he'd known over the years had disregarded their advantages merely because they thought it underhanded. He found nothing underhanded in fighting for survival through whatever means available. He knew the man facing him recognized he'd have done the same thing in his position.

He wouldn't have stooped to some things, like killing an opponent without a weapon or someone caught unaware. He'd jump a man in an alleyway, but he'd never sneak up on him or attack him without his sword out. He had some points about the Shinsengumi's methods at times he'd disliked, particularly their use of hitokiri like Jin-e Udo. Oh he could understand the usefulness of secretive assassination attempts, but he'd never have killed a man before he had time to fight back. It just wasn't what he considered moral. Nor did he like many opponents attacking a single target. He understood the use of sending more than one man to make sure the deed got done, but he didn't like men who outnumbered their enemy and all attacked at once. It was in one of those unsavory situations he now found himself in now. Shit.

He could understand and respect the decision of the men before him to attack him as a unit. It was not only a wise move, considering his record of killing single opponents easily, but also more efficient in the end. The less time they spent on a single man the more energy they'd save for the whole duration of the battle. He pushed aside his distaste for the situation, no doubt he wasn't in the best situation here, but he was use to coming out of tricky life threatening situations without more than a few scratches. This would end with the same result. For Tokio. He saw her smiling, her brown eyes like melting chocolate, her hand inviting him into their home. He'd return home damn it, his death wouldn't be away from all he held dear. He got into Gatotsu, smirking at the men around him. None of them could match him in his desire to live; he'd be damned if any of them felt more compelled to keep living than he did. He had Tokio and Tsutomu waiting for him. He still had so much evil to punishment with his Aku Soku Zan. He wasn't anywhere near to death's door.

* * *

Cigarette smoke swirled to the ceiling, clinging to the walls of their room. She watched the gray lines twirl and dance before her. She inhaled the scent of smoke, recalling her husband's lean face and amber eyes. His self assured air and knowing smile. Always so damn confident her husband. "Rightly so," he would have said if he'd been here. Three months. Three achingly long months.

She snubbed out the cigarette carefully. She'd used the other two cigarettes up already. She'd sit in their room, hold one of his juban or kimono, and burn the cigarette for a little while. She hadn't conserved the first cigarette well, using nearly half of it in the first two weeks. She'd gotten better at using only a little bit to remind her of him, just enough cigarette smoke to ignite her memories of him. She'd tried only to light the cigarettes when her world had felt bleakest without him, when something suddenly triggered memories, when she'd awaken from a nightmare of him dead, or a dream of him holding and kissing her. There were times that were much worse than others. She sighed, she should be use to time without him. After all he'd left for weeks because of work related to Okubo. Never three months, but still. Still.

She buried her head into his kimono she was holding. Deep breaths helped a little. She felt the tears start as they usually did about this time. She laid down on the futon, cuddling the kimono, trying to remember the warmth of his body, the feel of his arms, the beating of his heart against her chest. She fell asleep, her cheeks tear strained.

* * *

Damn. He cursed, feeling his warm blood spill out from the wound. He'd expected more blood, but gun shot wounds only left a little hole, several small rivulets of blood trickling out. Hurt like hell though. He took a breath, his breathing wasn't right. He blinked, his vision becoming fuzzy. He shook his head, he was fine. So what if his pocket watch hadn't saved him this time…a little gun shot wound wasn't a big deal… He felt his legs give way and he was on the ground. He went to stand, but someone grabbed him and heaved him into a standing position for him.

"Let's get him out of here! Hurry, we don't have time…"

Voices and background noises became mingled and he hardly made out much of the words around him. They couldn't leave as they'd finally gotten to Saigo's encampment and had just starting to fight there. He needed to finish his work. Damn. Damn the stupid bastards dragging him. He thought about struggling, but knew he was too weak to fight much. Damn everything.

He felt someone take the sword from his hand and saw the flash of silver as it was put away. Tokio had worn gray. He saw her face, her gentle sloping shoulders straightening as she saw him, her lips smiling, her hair worn in two ribbons when she was having a good day. Her eyes meeting his and the way the warm brown melted his cold gaze. He closed his eyes, he'd come back to her. No matter what. Even death wouldn't keep him away.

* * *

She sat up, glancing around the room. She could hear Ryoko singing a soft tune in the other room and made out a male voice awkwardly humming the same tune, trying to keep his humming in tune with the girl's singing. Why the heck was Morinosuke here so early in the day? Surely not… She heard something drop with a crash. Tsutomu, not in his basket but with the two out in the house, starting crying. She heard Ryoko cooing to him.

"I cut my finger," she heard Morinosuke snap in all likelihood picking up the pieces of what he'd broken.

"That's Tokio-san favorite tea pot! She's going to have your head! Why'd you drop it, Morine-chan?" What? Since when did Ryoko call her brother that? She remembered her husband's reluctance at letting them spent time together, how her brother had called Ryoko cute on several occasions, and other little incidents. Holy crap…please let her brother not be so damn stupid. Maybe Saito was right about her brother's stupidity.

"I dropped it because…well…just read the paper!"

She dressed as quickly as possible, swooping her hair up into a tight bun and smoothing all the loose strands back with quick precision. She straightened out the wrinkles in the dark green obi and the lighter green kimono she'd hurried into. She tightened the bow in the back and told herself she was ready to face the day. She saw his juban as she was about to leave, half laying on the futon where she'd left it in her in haste to dress. She winced, pressing a hand to her face. She had to face the day, she couldn't cry, not until nighttime anyway and from the noise outside and the sunlight slipping in through the bottom of the shoji the day had just begun. She could handle this, she was tough, she wouldn't think of him until later. She glanced at it again, but she couldn't leave it lying around and have Ryoko stumble upon it. She didn't want to cause her to worry.

She went to it and knelt down. Picking it up and stretching it out reminded her of how he looked it in. She'd always thought he looked good in dark vivid colors, like the blue of his police uniform. The one time he'd worn a lighter colored garment, the one time he'd worn his Shinsengumi outfit, was burned forever in her mind. She sighed, remembering how good he'd looked, how he'd smirked at her and his gold eyes had shined with mocking mirth. She felt the tears before she even realized they'd started. Why did life feel so dull without him…?

She tried desperately to compose herself, knowing if he was here right now he'd be shaking his head and saying something along the lines of, "Crying, Tokio, that's not like your usual ladylike self, humph. Don't tell me you've become soft? I can't believe a headstrong woman like you would cry." Or something like, "Stupid woman," if he wasn't in a good mood and then he'd just hold her.

She started when she heard someone else crying. Ryoko's choked voice reached her ears, "I'm sure it's…. It can't be, can it, Morine-chan?"

She didn't catch her brother's reply because his tone must have been too soft. Brushing her tears away she knew something dreadful had occurred. She checked her face briefly, noticing her cheeks were a little red and her eyes a little blood shot, but at least her nose hadn't acted up. When she didn't find them in the living area she went into the kitchen. As she entered she hoped appearance wise she looked no different then every morning before her husband's departure.

Tsutomu's crying had ended long ago. He was sitting playing with some pans, banging them together to make an annoying clanging noise. He seemed overly joyous at his discovery that they made noise when hit together. Her brother was sitting at the table, one arm around Ryoko's shoulder, his eyes like two burning coals. The pieces of her favorite pot had mostly been picked up, expect for a few big pieces he'd neglected. Ryoko was wiping at her face, keeping it turned away in embarrassment, her kimono sleeve rustling as she used it to cry her tears.

Morinosuke's hand moved off her shoulder as she came further in. "Clean up your mess, Morinosuke-chan, before my son hurts himself and you will buy me a new one, en? I'll start some tea if you'd go to the well and draw some water, Ryoko-chan. Tsu-chan," she picked the baby up, smiling gently as she set him down near the table, "No playing with the kitchen pans, my little worker."

When either of them moved to do what she'd asked, she blinked at their unmoving figures. "Please," she ventured, "I'd get the water myself, but…" She wondered how horrible she looked when she just received a mortified look from Ryoko and a pitying look from her brother.

"Sada-chan," her brother hadn't used her original name in so long she'd forgotten what it sounded like on anyone's lips but Saito's. She jerked slightly as she reached for one of the pans on the ground. "Sada-chan," she put the pan down, knowing that if Morinosuke was using that name he was being serious for once. "Read the paper."

The paper? She saw the remnants of the paper sitting in disarray on the table before Ryoko and Morinosuke. She hadn't thought much of it. She frowned, glancing between her brother's somber face and her students half frightened, half sorrowful one. She felt her jaw tighten painfully as she came over and picked up the paper. Something bad had indeed happened.

"It's at the bottom… It's rather lengthy…"

She began reading the article about the Bongo police department. It went on about Mikawauchi and an attack there on July twelfth. Then a skirmish at Mt. Toribira and a long deluge about moving from Shiomidani, to Fudoozaka, and then to Mt. Oetsu. The army moved from Todoroki to Marushio. Then at the mentioning of the grouping being divided into two she saw his name. Goro Fujita, she nearly gave a cry of joy as she saw his name. She kept reading, hopeful to see his name appear again and with praise. No doubt he'd fought bravely her husband. Always a fighter, he'd probably receive a reward for his efforts.

"_A little while before this,"_ it read, "_Fujita Goroo accompanied by soldiers crossed the Fukuhara pass and reached to Yakio. There, they defeated the enemy. They continued gun fighting on the way to move to Takayuka. There, Fujita Goro was shot."_

She felt nothing as she read that one sentence over and over again. There, Fujita Goro was shot. It was stated casually as if it meant no more than any of the other sentences…yet it was the only sentence that mattered to her. Certainly not to the reporter, she thought vaguely, setting the offending thing away. She couldn't read more, particularly if it…if it told her much worse then that. There was only so much she could deal with at one time. Goro Fujita was shot. It didn't say he was dead…but circumstances changed instantly…he could well be dead before the paper she'd been holding had reached her hands.

"Fujita-sama?" It was Ryoko's soft lilt trying to rouse her. She didn't move, staring at a spot on the ceiling that had a dark strain. When had that gotten there, she wondered dully, had it arrived when Saito had been shot? She felt something in her crack, like the jagged lines that had run down her favorite pot, and then as it became too riddled with cracks, some short and some long, it strained at trying to stay together, and one little crack that ran deeper then all the others pushed it over the edge and it broke apart. That was how she felt, she mused, cracking all over on the inside. What was life without her husband?

"Sada-san," It was Morinosuke's voice she heard, but she did not see him kneeling beside her. Instead her vision showed her husband, smoking a cigarette, his eyes flashing with good humor today, his thin figures pressing the cancer stick to his twitching lips. Taking a drag, he let his lips twitch into the smirk he'd kept at bay until then, his amber eyes smothering her with their intensity.

"Sada-san…?" How he drawled her name, his voice so amazingly pleasant to her ears. "Sada-san…" His eyes flashed with possessiveness and she knew when he said her name he said it as if she belonged to him. She did. She had become his so long ago she barely knew the exact time or place. She just knew she'd be his for the rest of her life…and now he was gone.

He took another drag, blew out the smoke, and threw the cigarette down as he turned away. She reached for him, trying to muster the strength to yell his name as he marched off, never to return. She came back to herself as the cigarette hit the ground. She jerked in Morinosuke's arms, he was mumbling her name, his head to her shoulder. She realized her arm was out stretched as if reaching for the imaginary Saito.

She felt the salty taste of tears in her mouth and touched her eyes, her hand shaking as she pressed her kimono to her face. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Not him. He was too strong to be defeated by a simple bullet, too proud to let himself be killed, and too goddamn stubborn to let anything prevent him from doling out Aku Soku Zan. He had to be alive. If he wasn't…if he wasn't her life would be forfeit too. Tsutomu mattered, a little voice of reason whispered. She pushed herself to her knees and then stood, throwing her brother off and making him land backwards. He stared at her like a gaping fish, hurt flashing in his eyes. Ryoko was still sitting, Tsutomu yanking at her kimono. She didn't seem to notice the boy, her eyes busy watching the two siblings.

Her voice shook violently as she said, "Do as I told you to before… We have the whole day… Don't look at me like that." She wasn't aware that she'd started screaming until Ryoko grabbed her and none too gently pushed her into their room, which was beyond strange for the usually gentle girl.

"Oh, Fujita-sama… You just stay here and don't work all day…" Her voice had a surprising strength to it, Tokio recalled later, but at present she'd not noticed. "You need to be alone. Here," Ryoko had picked up the wakizashi that Saito kept near the alcove, she hadn't even noticed her pick it up. "You alone must decide what to do. Morinosuke-san and I will prepare the food and bring you some later. I'll go to the school and tell them you can't make it in. Think about everything, Fujita-sama, before you do anything."

She just lay down where she was, not even feeling she had the strength to crawl over to the futon, and cried. How could she stand life now that it was so gray?


	32. Chapter 32: Tokyo, 1877, Part 4

Anyway a good deal of Morinosuke in this chapter and his thoughts.

* * *

Morinosuke squared his shoulders back, he wouldn't falter, he had to do to this Tokio. He took the uniform from the recruitment man. Not his color and he wasn't exactly sure what the use of half of the uniform was, but he'd figure it out before they arrived in Kyushu. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this…oh right he needed a plan.

So they'd head to Yokohama and sail from there to join the rest of the advanced army in Kyushu. From there…eh…he wasn't exactly sure if he'd ever see Saito, but he had to at least try. He had to make sure for Tokio that he was safe and alive. He couldn't be dead; he was too tough and annoying to die. Morinosuke didn't want to think what the death of the arrogant Wolf of Mibu would do to his sister. Tokio didn't need anymore pain or lose.

He exhaled the breath he'd been holding, stupid Saito going off to war and leaving poor Tokio all alone. Ever since the newspaper had reported Saito's getting shot she'd been like a ghost, walking and working but with no heart, no compassion even though she smiled and tried to appear like she cared. She was dead inside and he couldn't stand seeing her like this. No matter how many times Teru, Katamori, Ryoko, and himself had tried to reassure her he was alive, she barely listen and would snap at them when they even mentioned his name. Tsutomu was the only one she acknowledged in this world with any feeling anymore. She cuddled and cradled him like he was something precious and he knew she clung to him because he had Saito in him. She'd live for Tsutomu if for none of the others.

He cracked his neck, staring up at the sky. This clear bright day seem to mock him with its radiance and vibrancy. He wanted it to go away, wanted the night to block out all light and all feeling. He felt depressed and thought he had good reason to be. His sister was going crazy, Teru was dying, Katamori was talking about becoming a priest at a local shrine, Hiroshi was off fighting as a General in the army, and the bastard that was Saito was probably dead. And might get himself killed too just to find Saito's stupid person.

He hadn't expected so many guns and artillery. He just stared at the metal in his hand and wondered how such a simple thing could kill another human being. He'd expected katana and wakizashi since they were fighting Saigo's samurai, but they got bullets whizzing pass and artillery balls flying overhead. All of Saigo's western clothed warriors also had katana and wakizashi, but they were disregarded them for now to use the more appropriate gun.

He lifted his Snider rifle, noticing his hands were shaking he worked on stilling them. He could do this, he wasn't as weak as Saito said he was, he could stand this ordeal and he'd come out alive. He had too. Tokio would be able to stand both the lose of her husband and her brother.

Firing the rifle at an enemy his eyes widened as the man who'd aimed his own gun at him fell to the ground wordlessly. No yell of anguish, no blood he could see, just a little hole in the man's chest that went through his clothes. He watched the body collapse with horror, knowing he'd just deprived someone of a husband, brother, nephew, or son. He'd just deprived a wife of her husband, just killed Saito and his sister in one blow. He'd taken a life, a life that he could never replace. He didn't think such thoughts took more then a few seconds, but the realization of what he'd just done hit him full force. He wanted to cry and mourn the death of the man he'd killed. Saito would have shaken his head at him and said, "You're so damn weak, Morinosuke-san, how can you protect your sister when you can't even kill a single man?"

His sister. The thing in his life he cherished most after the rest of their family had been wiped out. First their sister, then their father, and finally their mother. He didn't remember the first two deaths, but he remembered coming to his mother's room and finding her dead in her futon. Her eyes closed, her chest unmoving, her face so cold looking and pale, her black hair spread over her shoulder and half concealing her face. It was an image that would never leave.

He didn't want his sister to turn into their mother after Kojuro's death. His mother had smiled, had laughed even, but there had always been a constant sorrow in her eyes after her husband's death. He was here for her, he took a breath, to protect his sister's sanity because without Saito she couldn't live happily. He had to fight. He had to kill, even if it meant taking the lives' of other people's loved ones. He had too for Tokio.

He went to raise his rifle, but he never shot it off again. He was on the ground before he fully realized what had happened. His arm had been hit. He cursed, feeling the pain sear his whole body. He'd never felt pain like this.

He crushed his eyes together, trying desperately to make the pain go away as it vibrated through his whole being. Go away… He clutched his wounded arm, resulting in more acute pain.

He crouched on his knees, looking around for the rifle he'd dropped in his fall. He felt a hand clamp onto the back of his uniform and bit back a cry of pain as his bad arm jerked. He was thrown back, just as a bullet hit the spot he'd been kneeling at to finish him off.

He felt something hit the back of his head and he wondered one last vehement thought before drifting into unconsciousness. Had he failed Tokio just like Saito had always said he would?

* * *

"Morinosuke-san?" Who was calling him? Was it his father's voice, stern and vaguely annoyed? It sounded familiar… Was he dead?

"Morinosuke-san? Open your eyes," something slapped his burning cheek. He snapped his eyes open in fear, glancing upward. Hiroshi's face swam before his vision. Was he dead? Had Hiroshi been killed too?

"I always said he was an idiot," remarked a snide voice from beyond his vision. He knew he was dead because he had to be if that voice was speaking.

"Screw you asshole!" He sat up, suddenly feeling woozy. Hiroshi helped him stay sitting up by putting a hand to his back. If they were dead there was no way Saito would be there too. Didn't the Christians believe in Hell? Saito would be there and he'd be in the place the good people went. He was sure of it. But then he remembered the man he'd killed and he had a sinking feeling that maybe he'd be with Saito after all.

"Up at last," the same annoying voice drawled. He glared when he spotted the man insulting him. Saito was situated about three futons away from him, sitting up. He had an ashtray in his lap and a cigarette in his mouth. Stupid smoking bastard. Then he saw the bandages. His kimono was lying pooled at his waist line and bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest area. He wore hakama with one leg pushed up and bandaged around the thigh.

"Not in your police uniform, Saito-san?" Relief for his sister flooded his veins before he became annoyed at Saito's response.

"Its Goro-san, idiot, and they took it to be washed and fixed up. Hiroshi brought me a hakama and kimono."

"What are you doing here," Hiroshi finally demanded, looking annoyed.

"I had to see if Goro-san was alive."

Saito raised his eyebrow, "Why would you think I wasn't?"

"Well…" How much to tell them. He settled with everything, better out then in he'd always said. "Ryoko-san and I found your name in one of the papers. It said you got shot."

"Does Tokio-san know?" Saito's voice changed from mocking superiority to a low growl.

"She knows," he felt pain in his arm and glanced at it. Oh, the wound was throbbing. Sometime during his unconsciousness he'd been bandaged up, but that made sense if he was in an infirmary.

"That's bad news. So you joined the army and came here?" Hiroshi started to pace, his stride looking longer then usual in his western style General uniform.

"Yes."

"Idiot," Saito barked, "You've risked your life unnecessarily. No doubt Tokio-san's fears have only doubled with your absence. You must return to Tokyo immediately."

"Is that possible," he'd not expected to be able to leave the army once he'd joined.

"We could arrange it to be so," Hiroshi was frowning, "But I'd lose face."

"To hell with your reputation, Yamakawa!" Saito snapped, looking like a ruffled Wolf.

Hiroshi looked a little hesitant as he spoke, "I am considered for my reputation. As a General I've a duty to see this war to it's conclusion and with us as the victors. That being the case, how would it look if I let Morinosuke-san up and leave the army? Not good."

"Like I said to hell with reputations."

He sighed, "You must have got that sentiment from your time among the Wolves of Mibu, eh? Most people care about that sort of thing. Sorry to disappoint you, Goro-san, but the army's morale might drop if I allow Morinosuke-san to ship out of here."

"You'd risk his life over a little bit of morale? To hell with you―."

"You don't understand―."

"For allowing, Morinosuke-san, a man you claim as your good companion, to―."

"This is a war we can't just win by sheer numbers―."

Morinosuke watched the verbal fighting, noticing both men were too busy making their points to listen to the others. "I have an idea!" Both men ignored him, snapping at each other like annoyed dogs. "I have an idea!"

"Die for the sake of some idiot's ideas of what is right is invidious behavior."

"We need the men's morale high, some of our men some are wavering because they're from the Satsuma area or just plain like what Saigo's ranting."

He stared between the two men wearily, shaking his head as they both started into their arguments again. He saw a nurse walk in and asked her if she'd get him some green tea. She came back ten minutes later and Morinosuke thanked her kindly. He glanced at the two men, both looking ready to claw each other's throats out.

"May I propose something?" He asked when both had taken reprises from their word battle.

"What?"

"Something wrong, Morinosuke-san?"

"No, Hiroshi-san, and I have an idea I think would be swimming. Why don't you take me out of the war and station me as paper pusher? I'd rather do paperwork then fight." Both men stared at him with surprise, clearly that thought had not crossed either of their minds. And Saito called him the stupid one.

"Good idea," Hiroshi said, smiling.

"Horrible idea," Saito spat, "How are you going to tell Tokio-san I'm alright if you don't go to Tokyo?"

"I can always use the telegraph."

"The telegraph?" The confused look Saito was giving Morinosuke said he didn't know what a telegraph was.

"And you call me stupid," Morinosuke mumbled under his breath.

"You don't know what a telegraph is?"

Saito looked insulted, "Of course I do. I just wasn't aware that you'd have one here. So a message to Tokio, hm? Good idea for once, Morinosuke-san."

"Thank you…Wait a second was that an insult or compliment?"

"Take your pick," Saito chuckled.

* * *

Tokio sat on the steps watching Ryoko with Tsutomu. He was playing with the new blocks Morinosuke had saved up and brought him. He stacked the one blue on the green one and topped it off with the yellow one. She saw a tender look sparkle in Ryoko's eyes as Tsutomu knocked the little tower down.

She wondered what the girl was thinking of. Was she thinking of Tsutomu or Morinosuke? The girl had told her just the other day that she fancied her brother. She'd shrugged, it wasn't her business and her brother was adult enough that he could handle courting a woman without getting into trouble. She felt no need to intervene if she didn't have to. It would make her think too much of the days before her marriage when Saito had half haphazardly courted her.

She pressed her kneels together with her hands, trying not to conjure his face to her mind, knowing it would only result in her going back inside and crying some more. She glanced instead at her son. He was humming, the tune not a song she recognized, as he stacked the blocks and brought them crashing down. He cheered, raising his little arms in the air. How joyous he could get and by something so simple. She felt the sorrow expand when she knew she'd never feel such joy in life again. Not without Saito in the world.

Anger overwhelmed her and she wanted to break something. Why couldn't she just forget him? Why did he loom over her so demandingly? Why was he in her every thought? She wanted his memory to go away and she wanted so desperately to forget she'd ever loved him. He was dead; there was no use in loving the dead. She pressed her knees so hard together that the bones grinded uncomfortably. She had to focus on reality and not him. Concentrating hard she loosened her grip until it was almost slack.

The physical discomfort of moments before could not equal the pain she felt at his death. She knew vaguely that she was little more then a ghost walking this world, a being who'd been made a woman because of his love and was nothing more now then bones and flesh eagerly waiting for death. Hadn't he said to her, "I wasn't living because I'd wanted to survive, I was living because no one had killed me. You've given me a reason to live, Tokio."

Saito… Damn. She noticed the officer walking down the street. Her mind went to Saito, remembering how broad his shoulders looked in his uniform, how straight his figure, how long his legs…Hm...

The man stopped before their house, looking at something in his hand before coming down the street and stopping before their gate. She gave Ryoko a glance that said she should grab Tsutomu. The girl picked him up quickly as Tokio went to greet the officer and Ryoko went inside.

"Do you need something?" She put on a pleasant smile, trying to appear cheerful.

"Is this the Fujita residence?" He looked nervous and he was young, likely a new officer.

"Indeed it is," a part of her was cautious, her hand involuntarily going to the kaiken in her obi. She didn't unsheathe it, but she was prepared. Saito had drilled in her not to trust anyone and that included police officers. Police officers could be just as evil and corrupt as anyone else.

"A message for you, ma'am, from Kyushu." Her heart skipped a beat and her hands clutched into fists. The message could only be about his death. "It arrived at the station earlier today, ma'am," she unclenched her fists and reached for the paper he held out.

The address of their house was on the front with his name. She opened it and read: _I'm alive. Hiroshi and brother a pain in my side. Take care until I return. – Goro Fujita._

Her hands shook and tears gathered in her eyes. All her fears, her pain, her anger, and her depression all leaked out like sand through her fingers. She pressed her kimono to her face, staring up at the young man's eyes. "That's roughly what our guy translated it as," he smiled, "I'm guessing you're his wife, eh?"

"Yes…"

"I'm glad your husband's alright. I'm Yasuyo Matsushita. If you need anything at the station, Fujita-san, do not hesitant to ask. Good day." He turned and walked off. She watched him go, thinking how strange that his first name meant peaceful era. This era had been far from peaceful, but Yasuyo Matsushita had given her back her reason to live and she'd find someway to repay the man who'd delivered the letter.

* * *

Yasuyo blinked at the money his superior had placed in his hand, "Uramura-sama?"

"Fujita-san is a good lady and you'd do best to take her offering of yen, hm."

"I heard Fujita-sama is a hard man," Yasuyo said, looking nervous. "No one else has ever met his wife besides you, Uramura-sama."

"I only met Fujita-san once, but I know Goro-san and he's not the sort to marry anything but a paragon of virtue."

"I'm nervous."

"Don't be. Ow, Fujita-san, we were just talking about you." Tall, dark haired, and immediately radiating intimidation the man waffled in with his cigarette smoke and filled the whole room with his presence. "How have you adjusted to your return?"

"Fine. My report of the front," he had a rather big stack under his arm. Uramura nodded his head to put the package on his desk.

"Your wife, Tokio Fujita, has kindly given Yasuyo Matsushita-san here some money for his timely delivery of your letter in July. You remember the telegraph message Ito-san translated and had Matsushita-san take to your wife?"

"Certainly," sharp amber eyes sent a shudder through Yasuyo and he tensed distinctively. If the other men in the room noticed they showed no signs and he was grateful. "I'll start work immediately tomorrow."

"Oh, no need, you can have a few days off. Get acquainted with your wife and family again, Fujita-san, and how are your wounds?"

"I will come in tomorrow, Uramura-san, there is no need for any time off. Besides I still feel a bit guilty for that whole week in 1876 for Tsutomu-san's birth. My wounds are healing up nicely, hardly any worry."

Yasuyo started at him like he was crazy. The man smiled derisively, giving him a small gleam of pearly white teeth. The guy reminded him eerily of a Wolf stalking its prey. The only trouble was he didn't know what the prey was and hoped it wasn't him.

Uramura looked annoyed, "You just do as your superiors instruct, Fujita-san. Go home. We will see you on the first. Thursday come in."

"I protest―."

"Fujita-san," a warning tone indicted Uramura's annoyance, "I said Thursday, do not make me change it all the way to the following Monday."

"Uramura-san this―."

"November fifth?"

Yasuyo frowned as the two men stared each other down. "I accept Thursday, good evening." As the man left Yasuyo found himself wondering how such a nice lady as Tokio had come off as was married to such a prick.

He heard Uramura mumbled under his breath, "I can never understand what's going on in inside that man's head." Yasuyo could have sworn for a second he heard malicious laughter ringing from outside, but disregarded it a second later as his imagination, a guy like that didn't laugh.

* * *

About who saved Morinosuke, it wasn't Hiroshi because he's a General, he's just too busy to worry about one single person and Saito was in the infirmary. Let's just say some other soldiers saved him and brought him to the infirmary, eh? It's more believable then Saito or Hiroshi saving him so yeah.


	33. Chapter 33: Tokyo, 1877, Part 5

So I actually mention one of the Kenshingumi in this chapter, hurray for Sano!

* * *

"Tokio," he chuckled darkly as she kissed his collar bone, her lips hot against his moist skin. "You know I work early tomorrow."

"Yes," she lifted her head from his shoulder, smiling, "but it's been nearly six months…and I'm not celibacy. Besides," her smile turning lustful as her gaze roamed over his lazily stretched out body. "We've both been really busy the last two days and didn't get much time…err…your words not mine…futon time in."

He snorted, loving his wife's silly shyness when it came to 'futon time.' She certainly wasn't shy when using that futon time up, he mused, but otherwise she acted the shy virgin. He grabbed her, pushing her on her back, laughing in her ear in what he hoped was a sardonic way.

"Ah, Tokio," he attacked her neck, his lips eagerly leaving love marks. He wasn't usually interested in marking up his wife's nearly flawless white skin. Sure he was a territorial Wolf, but he did like to take care of the things he owned and his wife was his property so he took great care in her appearance. He also thought having her walk around with love marks was more then a little shameful in his mind. Tonight was his though so he'd do as he pleased and he knew Tokio could easily cover up the marks for just one night.

"I love it when you're in a good mood," one hand ran quickly through his hair, "You need a hair cut."

"Humph."

"How about I cut your mangy mane, my anata."

"Since when have you called me anata?"

"Since now."

"I prefer Hajime koishii."

"Same thing."

"No. Anata means dearest, koishii means darling."

"You just like that I use your name with koishii. Hajime anata."

He rolled his eyes, "That sounds stupid."

"So you like Hajime koishii?"

"Better then anata."

"Silly Miburo."

"Miburo is even better." Her arms went around his neck and she pulled his head down to kiss her. He smiled, he'd never tell another soul this but, "I missed you while I was away, Tokio." Then he kissed her across the lips violently and ignored her pleasantly stunned look.

* * *

Morinosuke cursed when he saw the officer come crashing through the shoji. For a second he thought the man was Saito, but it wasn't. Then he was scrambling to his feet and running for his life. Shit. He crashed into another man making a break for the exit. He pushed the man away, jumping over a fallen drunkard, and down the steps. He skidded to a spot, hearing shouts behind him.

He ran for the gate leading out of the back garden of the house and nearly ran into him, backing a few breathless paces away. His wild brown eyes locked with ferocious gold ones and he felt his insides drop. Oh shit! He was in trouble. He went to step back further, even completing trying to jump over the fence, but stopped when the eyes followed him like he was no more then a bug.

Anger barely controlled tinted his voice when he spoke, anger that could tear his whole body apart without even batting an eyelash. "You're dead," and the Wolf lunged at the idiot.

"Goro-san!" He yelled, sticking a hand through the wooden box shaped bars.

Saito filling out reports at his desk smirked, "Shut up maggot!"

That bastard was enjoying this. "Let me out, Goro-san!"

"I told you if you went to a gambling hall I'd arrest you."

"Come on, asshole, I'm your goddamn brother-in-law!"

There was snickering from behind him and he turned and glared at the other gamblers. "I can't believe you're related to that hard ass cop," one of then muttered, laughing.

"We are not related."

"You just said he's your brother-in-law."

"When I'm done with him he won't have a wife! No way would Tokio be fine with her husband arresting her brother. Goro-san let me out!"

He saw the flutter of her kimono as she was lead inside by a young officer. She smiled, but her eyes were hard. "Get into trouble, brother?"

He tried to smile but failed. "It's his fault…"

Tokio just shook her head, her bira bira jingling. "I was on my way to see Teruhime-sama when Yasuyo-san here stopped me and told me my brother got himself arrested by my husband. How do you think I feel right now?"

"Anger at your stupid husband for arresting me?"

She narrowed her eyes, "No. I'm angry that you haven't listened to a word I've been telling you these past couple years. I thought you quit the illegal gambling, Morinosuke-san?"

"He is an idiot, Tokio-san," Saito quirked from his desk, frowning at something on one of the papers he was holding. "You shouldn't expect him to learn."

"Shut up, Goro-san."

"Serves you right, Morinosuke-san, I hope after this you learn to obey the law. How much is the fine, Goro-san?"

Saito lifted his head, "You better not pay for it, Tokio-san."

"If I don't no one else will. How much is it? I'm just grateful I got paid from the school today," she saw the annoyed look on her husband's face.

"Tokio-san, we have to pay our bills first. Screw bailing out the moron."

"You worry too much, Goro-san. You did get paid well for the raid, no?"

"Doesn't mean I want the money going to bailing out your brother."

She laughed, "Cheer up grouchy, here's the money and I'll see you at dinner, koishii."

He threw the keys to free Morinosuke at Yasuyo and the officer let him out. He received a dirty look from Morinosuke as his wife told him to leave. Tokio set the box she'd brought with her down on his desk, smiled, and turning around, humming to herself as she left. She'd pay for this later.... Thoughts of what he'd do to her churning through his brain he glared at the wall, wondering why being married to wonderful Tokio had the disadvantage of having an oaf for a brother-in-law.

He opened what she'd brought with her and found steaming hot plain soba inside, clearly snatched from a vendor on her way here. He smiled, no doubt she knew he forgot to eat at work. His Tokio was always taking care of him. Maybe he'd eat this and decide to forgive her for paying Morinosuke's bail. He had to talk to that idiot later, right now he was just happy to take off for lunch and eat the delicious looking soba before him.

* * *

Morinosuke cursed as he landed on his butt, staring into annoyed amber eyes. "Try and punch me one more time, idiot, and I might not be so generous with only punching you in the nose got it?"

"God damn you," he touched his nose to find blood dripping out. "You're such an ass, Goro! I mean come on, haven't I proven myself by fighting in the war and getting shot? I sure as hell deserve some respect!"

"You'll get some respect when you stop doing illegal things."

"Humph."

"What did I miss," Hiroshi stepped inside, looking uneasily at Morinosuke's face and Saito's posed posture before the alcove.

"Nothing but this idiot's stupid plan to attack me because I arrested him earlier for being at a gambling hall."

Hiroshi raised a brow, chuckling, "Haven't learned yet, little Morine-san?"

Morinosuke's eyebrows went up into his hairline as he paled. "Where…un…did you get that nickname from?"

"Ryoko-san called you that… I can only guess why," Hiroshi winked.

Saito's eyes narrowed, "You better not be―." A weak knock at the outside shoji made him stop his threatening.

"Goro koishii can you get that, Ryoko-san and I are busy."

Saito sighed, "Go get the door Morinosuke-san."

"Why me?"

"Just go."

"I'm not your slave."

Hiroshi shook his head, power struggles were annoying, "I'll get it."

Tokio came into the room, carrying two black lacquer trays with streaming rice bowls, tea cups, and miso soup. She and Ryoko began setting down the trays when Hiroshi and the newcomer came into the room. Tokio stared at the woman standing beside Hiroshi. "Amane-san," She rushed to the woman and hugged her, laughing, "When did you get to Tokyo?"

"Yesterday."

"Ow, come and sit. I'm so happy to see you again," Tokio lead her to a zabuton and went back to the kitchen. She came out about five minutes later with another tray and set it before her old friend, smiling. The five minutes that Tokio was gone Amane just looked at Saito and he just drank his tea ignoring her.

"Why are you here," Saito interrupted the conversation Tokio had started with Amane about the wonderful shops in Tokyo and how she'd take her to see them tomorrow.

"Didn't Kurasawa-san's letter say I was coming?"

Tokio blinked at her husband, noticing his tense shoulders. He set his tea cup down, "November is not December."

"I figured close enough."

"Hardly and you know you were suppose to meet me at the specific inn I mentioned in my letter."

"Kurasawa-san wanted me back before the New Year so I decided earlier was better. I asked at the police department where you lived and a nice young man by the name of Yasuyo was kind enough to escort me."

"Did he leave you at the doorstep?"

"Yes."

Saito's left eye twitched and he mumbled, "I'm killing him with training tomorrow." He lit a cigarette, glaring at the alcove.

Tokio blinked, realizing that Saito had been corresponding with Kurasawa without telling her. She stifled her anger at his keeping secrets and instead smiled at Amane, "How was your trip?"

"Pleasant enough. My escort, a Sagara-san, was quite the bizarre man, but he said he was a fighter for hirer and that he sometimes took bodyguard duty to make more money."

Saito snorted, "Hm. Sounds like an idiot who never learned how to use a sword properly."

Amane laughed, "Well, he said he could knock anyone out with a punch, but he was probably all words and no talk, nh? I'm glad to meet you again, Okura-san."

Hiroshi blinked, laughed, and smiled, "Please refer to me as Hiroshi-san, Amane-san."

She smiled at him and turned back to Tokio. "I'm sure Goro-san told you about Yaso-san…" When she saw Tokio's confused expression Amane looked at Saito with a look that said she couldn't believe he hadn't said anything. "You do know…"

"She doesn't know and I like it that way, Amane-san," Saito growled out, taking a longer drag then usual and snubbing it out in the ashtray with more force then was necessary.

She knew she was missing something critical here, something that Saito must have found out with the letter or letters from Kurasawa. She squared her shoulders, Saito lying to her about corresponding with everyone in Tonami was not making her mood any good. She glared at her husband before smiling at Amane and saying, "Why don't you tell me what's going on, Amane-san? I'm really curious about what my stupid husband decided not to tell me."

Amane looked nervous and twisted her kimono sleeves as she put her hands into them. She looked between Tokio and Saito before looking at Hiroshi. The older man gave her a sympathetic smile. Morinosuke was trying to whisper her identity to Ryoko and failing because everyone heard what he was saying.

"Amane-san we've been friends for years and even though he may," here she glanced at her husband with a vicious look, "look threatening and propose violence he wouldn't harm a woman…So why don't you just tell me?"

"Humph," Saito's glare made Amane close her mouth.

Tokio glared at him, but smiled as brightly as possible at Amane. "Please? Goro-san's just a jerk, nh? I'm your friend…"

"Fear works better then guilt," his canines flashing lethally at Amane. Hiroshi shook his head, poor girl shouldn't be trapped on a battlefield with Saito or Tokio. Morinosuke shoveled in rice, looking unease. Ryoko sipped her tea, glancing between Tokio and Saito, wondering who would win this little word battle. Hiroshi was more nervous about who wouldn't win, knowing the loser would probably be a danger to not only his life but that of the rest of the citizenry of Japan.

"Don't tell her, Goro-san's more of a physical danger."

"Thanks for your support, Hiroshi-san," Tokio spat venomously, giving him a look that was all steel and fire, "He'd hurt you bodily yes, but I'll drive you insane…"

Hiroshi ducked his head, pondering why for the life of him he'd interfered. Maybe it was because he didn't want the pretty lamp to get eaten by the two wolves about to champ down on her. Amane gave him a grateful smile for his trying to help, then braced herself for the onslaught of anger about to erupt around her she said simply, "Yaso-san is dead. She died at the end of 1876."

Tokio's eyes went wide as her face paled. Saito rolled his eyes skyward, something he only did when he was extremely irritated by the idiocy around him. "She's dead?"

"Yes."

Her eyes hardened into cutting steel as her eyes went to here husband's figure. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me all this time you've been writing Kurasawa-san? Even after I suggested a visit to Tonami and after I―."

"Would you be quiet," his voice just barely below a whisper, but his intensity was acute and for some reason his whisper felt more dangerous then if he'd shouted those words.

Tokio's mouth snapped shut with force, her eyes clearly angry in such a way that none of the people in the room had experienced with her. Tokio didn't get angry, Hiroshi mused, or at least he'd never seen her so. Seeing her look at Saito confirmed that she was more hurt then angry, but there was anger there. The anger, confusion, and pain of betrayal just barely hidden in her eyes. Why hadn't Saito told her? Why would he lie to his wife? Why lie about this when he'd been truthful about everything else? What logic was there in such an action?

He finished his food, no one else spoke as they ate hurriedly. The tension could have been cut by the sharp blade of a katana, it was almost tangible. Tsutomu was away with Teru and Katamori and he was thankful. If Teru had been here she wouldn't have let things die and a part of him was surprised by Morinosuke's silence. He wondered if Morinosuke was too harried about his and Ryoko's sudden discovery by Saito to be overly concerned about a dead woman.

Why was Saito so upset? Why did it matter that Tokio knew about Yaso's death? A sudden more worry consummating thought permeated his brain. Had Saito mourned Yaso's passing… From what he'd gathered about Saito's first wife from what he knew personally and what little Tokio had said about it Saito hadn't been terribly attached to Yaso Shinoda. Was that same train of thought what made Tokio tremble a little as she shook the empty trays out with Ryoko or was it his secretive actions instead? Probably a little of both…

He should yell at Saito or something and if it had been Morinosuke he would have. But it was Saito and one didn't lecture, advice, and certainly not yell at that Wolf of Mibu. Saito knew what he'd gotten himself into the instant he'd decided to hid the letters from his wife, he likely had planned for her finding out in advance…So why did he look like a fidgeting idiot right now?

* * *

Tokio knew…Buddha help him he was either going to be a badly injured man in the next couple of hours or Tokio was going to have to look for a replacement in the husband department after she killed him. He was sure his mask of stoic indifference was firmly in place, but on the inside he was panicking. So he hadn't planned that she'd ever find out. But she had and he was a dead man…Stop freaking out, he wasn't literally a dead man. She just wasn't happy about his actions, but it wasn't anything he couldn't fix with a little futon time. He hoped…

He sipped his tea, twisting a cigarette in his hand, debating about lighting it. He watched everyone finish their food and the trays be taken out by his wife and Ryoko. He frowned as she took his tray and her eyes didn't meet his with their usual happy sparkle. Her head bowed slightly as she lifted his tray and left. Damn he was in trouble.

He lit the cigarette, listening listlessly to the pleasantries being exchanged between Hiroshi, Morinosuke, and Amane. Weather. Take a drag. Sake. Another cancer inducing drag. Dinner. Dear god he needed a drag. Dinner at Hiroshi's with sake. Drag that finished his life taking cigarette. He watched Ryoko come back inside. Watched Morinosuke smile at her and her blush at something stupid he mumbled like a schoolboy. That reminded him…Morinosuke needed to be taught a lesson around girls.

He stood, dispelling any anger, annoyance, and anxiousness he felt as the eyes of the others followed him to the shoji that lead to the kitchen. Tokio was likely inside doing the dishes and likely she wanted to be left alone. He went inside, he had to resolve this before a) he ran out of cigarettes and b) Tsutomu, Teru, and Katamori came back. Teru would just get in the way and Katamori would smile in a knowing manner that said he knew how hard a woman could be.

He didn't say anything as he stepped inside and slide the shoji shut behind him. He walked over to where she was sitting on the floor before the dish basin. She didn't acknowledge his presence even though he knew she'd heard his footsteps.

"Tokio."

"Why?"

"I felt it was unnecessary for you to know."

"We are married and I'm not sure you understand marriage the same way I do. When you marry someone, Goro-san," if she hadn't been angry, for he heard her anger in her words, she would have used his old name. He pursed his lips together as she continued. "You commit to telling them every thing, you don't lie or keep things secret. Even if I didn't ask about Yaso-san you should have told me. You should trust me to be able to handle the information. First you kept you're leaving for the Satsuma Rebellion from me until the last minutes, now this? Have you no respect for me, no trust or…" Her voice stilled, her hands resting in the soapy water, she shook her head, wisps of hair gently caressing her shoulders and neck.

He sat down behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders. He felt her thin frame, felt her fragile woman body underneath the strength of his hands and sighed, kissing one shoulder tenderly. Only with Tokio had had learned what tenderness was. "Tokio," another soft kiss at the base of her neck, "I do it to protect you."

"Oh? How is some letters from Kurasawa-san protecting me?" She jerked away from his hold and his kisses, working at scrubbing the pots clean to ease her furious emotions. "And for that matter how were you going to the Satsuma Rebellion endangering my life? Explain that to me, Goro-san," she said his name like it was some nasty thing. He winced at the tone in her voice, never had he seen her so worked up like this. It was very unlike her and it made a pit in his gut wrench. Her words of distrust stung him worse then any sword wound.

He'd never really experienced much emotional distress until Tokio and he was only slowly becoming accustomed to his love for her, pain was an entirely different realm which he'd not been overly exposed too unless one counted the deaths of his comrades in the Shinsengumi. He didn't consider the time he'd been married to Yaso as painful for him as the look on his wife's face right now. All he wanted was the ability to make her sorrow dissolve.

Seeing her in pain always made him feel too much…her face conjured up other times he'd seen her in emotional distress. The helpless look in her eyes in the spare room at the Ueda's house right before she left for Tokyo, her pained eyes the time he'd told her he was moving out of the Kurasawa residence, her frightened look the night that Ichiro scum and his yakuza friends had dared lay hands on her… That last memory was still painful for him. He still remembered poignantly his incompetence in saving her and still felt the sharp realization that such a fate could still lie in wait for his Tokio.

He grabbed her and heard her grasp as turned her sharply away from her dish washing. He held her eyes, he had to make her understand… "Listen Tokio. The less you know about my missions and the less every other person in this world knows about you the safer you are. If any one of my numerous enemies sought to use my personal life against me they'd be sourly put to find any trace of you. Not once in any letter have I mentioned you so that should that letter by some chance fall into enemies' hands it would give them no fuel. Kurasawa-san has taken the same precautions. None of my police companions besides Uramura, that Matsushita fool, and another apparently trustworthy man named Ito know about you. I have taken every precaution to secure your safety and I don't intend to have all my hard work foiled because you want to know about some letters. If my enemies found out about you, Tokio, I don't want to give them a reason to torture you. Do you understand?"

"And you call me the worrier," the hardness in her eyes of moments before had softened into a look he recognized.

"I will protect you no matter the circumstances."

"You still should have told me about those letters. Why did you say I could write to Tonami before?"

He blinked, recalling what he'd said that far way back at Tanabata. She had too good of a memory. No doubt she remembered what color kimono he'd worn on their first meeting. He'd check that theory out later. "I planned on having you use your maiden name when you wrote those and to have you avoid any mention of me."

"Oh. What have you been talking to Kurasawa-san about? Surely you can tell me that?"

He considered it before frowning, "Nothing overly important…"

"Is it related to Okubo work?"

"A little bit. Some Aizu from Tonami want to relocate to Niigata, but some Meiji patriots aren't too happy about having a bunch of Aizu hanging around. Okubo-san wants a few corrupt old Ishin Shishi dogs out of the way before the Aizu arrive and it would make the transition easier."

"I see. Now was that so hard to tell me?"

He sighed, "No, but you know that's not the reason I didn't tell you. Why do I smell blood?" The knife she'd used to cut the vegetables with earlier for their soup had fallen to the floor. Her finger was bleeding. He raised a brow, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you noticed."

"I have good senses, but I can't pick up such a small amount of blood."

"I didn't mean did you smell it. I thought you saw me cut my finger. I did gasp after all."

He shrugged, "Wait." Going to the toilet room as Tokio waited he found the bandages and ointment. His turn to give her pain. She winced when he put the ointment on and he took great pleasure in her pain. She glared at him when she noticed his chipper mood.

"Masochist asshole," she hissed when he wrapped the bandage around her finger. He smirked, he didn't disagree.

"About Yaso-san."

"What about her?"

"How long have you known?"

"I received the letter from Kurasawa-san shortly after I arrived in Kyushu."

"How long have you been writing to Kurasawa-sama?"

"Roughly a few months before my departure off to the war."

"How come Kurasawa-san waited to tell you?"

He blinked, that thought had crossed his mind, "No idea."

"You know what? We should do these dishes and think up gifts we can send to the other girls. I really want to give everyone something. I do miss them."

"I don't think I could have married a more sentimental wife if I tried…"

"You know you like it."

"Humph."

"Hajime?" It was good to hear her change back to that name. "Next time you do anything like this again," both her arms wrapped around his shoulders, "I'm going to choke you to death in your sleep, nh?"

He chuckled, "Death threatens are only believable, Tokio koishii," he used her word against her and saw the glare of indignation in her eyes, "if they have a chance of succeeding."

"Humph. Don't use my word."

"Don't use my humph then."

"Humphing does not below to you, Mr. I'm-a-big-bad-Miburo."

"You sound as stupid as your brother."

"You're mean," she kissed his cheek, moving her lips to his ear. "Do you think we should tease them while they're listening?"

He snorted, "Most definitely. In fact I have a scary tactic that should eliminate all eavesdropping from now on." Her eyes flared mischievous and he grinned, oh yes he did.

* * *

Hiroshi took a step away from the shoji with a gasp. Morinosuke's eyes went wide as Ryoko pressed a hand to her face. Amane blushed as red as a tomato, her wide eyes staring at the shoji that lead to the kitchen with evident fear. Teru's loud voice echoed her arrival with Katamori and Tsutomu.

"Run away," Morinosuke breathlessly stated when Teru, Katamori, and his nephew came into the room.

"What are you doing in front of the shoji to the kitchen?"

"Don't worry about it, Katamori-san," Hiroshi whispered his face paler then usually.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Ryoko said, looking a little queasy.

"What's that noise coming from the kitchen? And where's Tokio and Sai…Sai…Sai…" Katamori's eyes looked ready to burst from his head as he pointed a finger wordlessly to the shoji in horror. Hiroshi nodded his head slowly.

Teru set Tsutomu down, shaking her head, "What the hell is wrong with you morons? You're all acting like a bunch of imbeciles." She raised her head from her scolding as a wail came from the kitchen and her eyes went wide. "Tell me there are not…I can't believe they'd do that while everyone's here. Has Tokio-chan lost her mind?"

"Maybe," Morinosuke said.

"No," Katamori ran forward to grab Tsutomu, but it was too late to stop the inevitable. The toddler, having finally walked completely on his own without the support of a table or wall, had gone to the kitchen shoji to find his parents. And find them he did. Saito and Tokio were sitting by the dish basin, doing the dishes while making obscene noises. While Tokio was anyway as Saito worked on the dishes and she watched him.

"What the hell?" Hiroshi demanded, realizing they'd all been duped.

"Hell," Tsutomu declared, "Hell! Hell, hell, hell, hell, hell!" So Tsutomu Hiromasa Fujita's first word was hell. Saito would have only been prouder if his first couple of words had been his motto and Tokio nearly died from embarrassment.


	34. Chapter 34: Tokyo, 1878, Part 1

Yeah, silly Morinosuke, never trust Saito, hm. Anyway I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. The next couple chapters should have Kenshingumi in them! Hurray! So I'm going to skim through most of 1878 because its covered in the anime, but I do want to do episode 30 and maybe a few different episodes with Saito in it. I always wondered what Saito's POV would be like during the fight scene in episode 30. Anyway so enjoy and R&R.

* * *

Morinosuke took a breath, preparing to be punched in the face at least. "I asked Ryoko-chan for her hand and she's given it. I want you to be ha―." The next instant he was on the ground, clutching his eye. He glared, "I thought we had an unspoken agreement that you'd only punch me in the nose?"

"I never agreed to anything," Saito cracked his knuckles, his figure intimidating as he stood. "You want to repeat what you just said? I don't believe I heard you right. You meant she turned you down, right?"

Morinosuke glared, "She said yes!" A swift kick to his abdomen sent him flying backwards. He clutched his stomach as he got onto his knees. He winced feeling certain Saito had broken a few ribs. "Are you nuts? You probably broke a bone!"

"If I had broken anything you'd be crying, disillusioned moron. Now what was her real answer?"

"I told you! She loves me and I lov―." His breath was once again knocked out of him by another kick to the ribs.

"You don't know the meaning of love, idiot. All you know is lust and that isn't love."

"I love her! What do you know! You're a squinty eyed asshole! You don't love anyone! All you love is Aku―."

"Don't degrade that motto by muttering it from your filthy lips. Listen well, idiot," a hand grabbed a clump of his hair and raised his face. Wolfish amber eyes stared at the helpless eyes of the man he held tightly. "You're beyond weak, Morinosuke-san, you can't possibly protect your own hide, much less support and take care of Ryoko-san. Get this thought out of your head right this instant or I'll beat it out of you. She is your superior in everything and you could strive your whole life just to be as half as good as her, do you hear me!"

"Fu―."

"Morinosuke-san," Ryoko ran over to them, staring at the bruise making his eye squint shut tightly.

"Saito," he heard Tokio say behind him. He grunted, letting Morinosuke fall to the ground. Ryoko reached out and touched his eye, frowning distastefully at the swelling that was starting.

"Screw you," Morinosuke brought himself to his feet, his breath coming in a whiz. "Teach me to be stronger if I'm so goddamn weak! If I'm so pathetically weak…" He fell back and Ryoko caught him, her hand gently touching his forehead with trembling fingers.

Saito shook his head, taking out a cigarette. "You're so pathetically weak that you aren't even worth glancing at. Teach you? Don't make me laugh, trying to teach you anything, much less kenjutsu, would take the rest of my life."

"Please," Morinosuke would rather die then beg, particularly to Saito, but he'd asked nicely if it meant he'd get Ryoko for a wife. "Please teach me, Fujita-san."

"No."

"Please teach me, Saito-san."

"Surname change won't change my answer."

"Please…"

Saito grabbed Morinosuke's kimono front causing him to flinched reflexively and stare frightfully. "I'd do better to teach Ryoko-san. Until you don't flinch away, until you realize you're stupidity I won't teach you shit."

He pulled away, lighting the cigarette he'd taken out a moment ago. "Ryoko-san," he looked at her, she rose from her kneeling position. "You come with me," he turned and walked out into the backyard of the house. She followed closely behind, her hands at her side as she marched out after the grim ripper.

Tokio went to Morinosuke, "I'll get the bandages. Do you mind telling me why he beat you up?"

Tokio knew Saito didn't hit her brother unless he tried to punch him or some other related offense. So he either he tried to attack Saito or did something bad enough to aggravate her husband. Not much aggravated Saito so she was thinking the first when he replied, "I told him Ryoko-san and I are getting married."

She stared, "You're what?" And not much surprised Tokio who nearly fainted at those words.

* * *

Ryoko stared up at his back, several inches taller than her. She didn't even reach his shoulders with the top of her head. He'd walked stiffly through the walkway Tokio had set up when they'd first moved in. His white socks getting a bit dirty. She knew Goro enjoyed cleanliness so she was a bit surprised he'd not stopped at the getabako and gone around the house to reach the garden. She bit her cheeks as the rain from earlier today seeped through her thin tabi socks.

She glanced briefly at the garden. There was not much to see as it was late February. The snow was gone, but the rain kept coming. She knew Tokio liked the rain and had often seen her teacher sitting out on the porch watching the rain. Sometimes if Goro was home he'd sit with her, smoking a cigarette.

When the weather got better Tsutomu would be allowed to play outside in the grass and run around. Tokio would ask her what flowers they should plant this year and the two of them would work on the small vegetable patch in the front of the house also. If she wasn't married to Morinosuke by then, but she figured not much would change and she'd still be allowed to help Tokio with her chores. She'd be living with Morinosuke yes, but she was sure there wouldn't be enough chores at his tenet house to keep her occupied all day. And she liked the residences of the house for Tokio was a good woman and Tsutomu was a good boy. Goro was an honorable man too, though she'd never told him that.

He didn't say a word, stopping at a random spot in the garden. She watched him take a drag of his unhealthy habit and waited, her arms pressed tightly to her kimono. A part of her advised her to fear him, but Goro, for all his temper and ill will towards most, was not the kind to hit a woman. He was more honorable then that.

"Are you afraid of me, Ryoko-san?"

"No."

"Humph." She shifted her weight, aware that he knew she was moving even though he was turned away and she made minimal noise. "You'd be afraid if you knew who I'd been."

"What, Goro-san?"

"Do you love him?"

She was a silent a second before smiling, "I do."

Silence for a second before he tilted his head to the sky. "I will make Morinosuke-san a man to be worthy of you."

She blinked, "He is."

"No. At the moment he doesn't realize the harsh reality of life and I will make sure he learns quickly enough that life is cruel. My name is not Goro Fujita. If you marry Morinosuke-san I figured you should be told this information. My birth name was Hajime Yamaguchi. I've had many names over the years; Ichinose Denpachi and Jirou Yamaguchi are names I took. The most famous name and likely the only one most people would recognize is Hajime Saito, third unit captain of the Shinsengumi."

Her eyes went wide, he'd been Shinsengumi? No wonder he was so ruthless, so violent…so wolfish. Then he turned around and she was pinned in place by his golden brown gaze. "Ryoko-san, I live by one thing alone. All these years and to the end of my days I will follow Aku Soku Zan. I have killed people even in this era, it is the reason I go away for weeks at a time. I'm what you'd call a hitokiri on my off days from the police department. Evil must be exterminated and I just happen to be the exterminator. Now is there a reason to fear me?"

She swallowed hard, processing what he'd said. Evil…killing… She turned away from his gaze, her eyes falling on a dead tree whose branches tried to reach the heavens. She raised her eyes back to his, "I accept it so long as I get to marry him," her throat closed up but she forced her words to come out, "just don't kill anyone in front of me, Saito-sama."

Then she turned and went inside. Tokio was nursing Morinosuke who lay stretched out on a futon Tokio had grabbed from storage. She knelt down beside him, "How are you?"

"Good," he smiled his meek smile that she loved. "Goro-san's an asshole, eh? He might not have broken a rib, but he sure as hell hurt it."

"All done, Morinosuke-san," Tokio pat her brother's head affectionately, rising. "I'll go make tea."

"Did Saito-san tell you before he married you, Tokio-san?"

Tokio stopped, turned, and smiled. "I knew he was Hajime Saito the first day I met him. Kurasawa-san introduced us."

"Were you afraid of him?"

"A little I suppose, but I think I was just wearier than anything. Most men in Tonami had killed before for the war or something so I expected he had. I've seen my husband kill only once and I'd not prefer to see it again. Nevertheless I won't stop him should he need to kill in front of me… I'm sorry we kept it from you for so long, Ryoko-san, but we figured for safety reasons it was for the best that the number who know his old name be as small as possible."

"I see. Do you plan on telling Tsutomu-chan?"

Tokio lifted her head to the shoji as Saito walked in, holding his tabi socks in one hand. "I forgot how damn wet it is outside," he grumbled as he threw the dirty socks into the clothes basket.

"Ryoko-san just asked if we plan on telling Tsu-chan about your old profession."

He crossed his arms, frowning. "I thought we talked about this before?"

"No. You insisted he isn't being told and I told you I didn't like that idea. After that we basically started fighting about it and then you used your dirty methods…"

"I did, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Dirty methods?"

"You don't want to know, brother."

"Sounds perverted."

"Oh, he is."

"Shut up, wife." The two glared each other down, "We are not telling him."

"Yes we are. He has a right to know, Hajime."

"No and don't call me that."

"Don't call you what? Hajime? Isn't that your name?"

"Goro."

"We are telling him."

"No. He will only give such information away. He's a boy, telling him would be stupid."

"I don't mean we tell him while he's little, I know children aren't the best secret keepers, but we should tell him when he gets old enough to understand and accept it."

"No."

"Stop being difficult."

"If he's as stupid as your brother even when he's in his twenties he'll still be liable to tell everyone or even just one unnecessary idiot who then tells everyone."

She shook her head, "Have some faith in our son will you and Morinosuke-san hasn't told anyone so don't you dare insult my brother, Hajime."

"Pfff, my distrust is what's help keep me alive all these years, Tokio, so don't ask me to lower my guard. Are we having soba for dinner?"

"No. I told you no soba today. We're having Morinosuke-san's favorite because he's here today."

"Like he deserves good food. I want soba."

"I don't care. So since I'm cooking you're not getting any." He glared at her, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and went into the kitchen. The next instant they heard the sound of a pot clamoring against another and then the closing of a cabinet. She narrowed her eyes, "Oh he better not be doing what I think he is."

"I think he is, Tokio-chan," Morinosuke mumbled.

"You are so dead, Hajime!" She ran into the kitchen. The two left in the living area exchanged nervous glances, listening for a sign of a struggle. They heard Tokio's sharp lecturing, the thump of a pot falling to the floor, and then the shoji was nearly ripped off when it opened. Saito went pass them without a word, came back, glared at Morinosuke, punched him in the face, turned and walked out of the house.

Morinosuke clutched his nose angrily as blood poured out. "My nose is going to break from one of his punches! Oh, Ryoko-san, why'd she marry him?"

Ryoko shook her head, "Love makes us all fools, Morinosuke-san. But I just hope we don't turn into them."

"Were did he go off too, Tokio-chan," her brother called out to her.

The reply from the kitchen was gruff, "To a restaurant to get some soba."

"You know," Katamori said, stepping into the living area. "I just saw Fujita-san walking down the street. He was all angry looking and was glaring at everyone. Half the citizenry has officially left Tokyo in fear for their lives while the dumber one's are holding up in their houses, hoping his anger doesn't get directed at them."

"Ha ha, Wolf boy's pissed," Teru said, carrying Tsutomu in her arms, "I brought Tsu-chan a new kimono today."

"Oh great," Tokio said, coming into the living area, smiling. "I'm sure Hajime-san will be fine in a little while. I do believe I won this battle though." Katamori coughed, glancing at Ryoko. "She knows, Katamori-san."

"I see."

"There was a battle, my Tokio-chan?"

"Yes, the 'Great Soba Battle of 1878.' And I'm the victor this year."

* * *

"Sorry about earlier, Tokio," he pulled the blankets around them as he settled in beside her.

"You should be."

"Will you teach him kenjutsu?"

"Morinosuke-san is an idiot. I won't teach him until he matures. At the present his mentality is that of a fifteen year old. He can barely support himself, how is he to support Ryoko-san with his crappy job? Emotionally I doubt he'll be much help either, she needs a strong man."

"Why don't you just marry her then..."

He laughed, "Because, witch, you've bond me with magic, nh?"

She laughed and then sobered, "Can we tell Tsutomu-chan?"

He sighed, "I'll think about it, but for now he's young and we don't need to fight over it, hm..." He kissed her cheek before flipping over onto his back and closing his eyes.

"Hey Hajime?"

"Hm..."

"I won this little soba battle."

He snorted, drifting off, so she'd won one battle, he'd win the war.

* * *

Japanese words to know this chapter:

Tabi-socks with a split toe, of course Ryoko would wear them as she wears geta and Saito would wear them if he was wearing sandals


	35. Chapter 35: Tokyo, 1878, Part 2

So this chapter goes immediately to Episode 29 of Season 2 of Rurouni Kenshin. I didn't include the fight because we all know how that goes.

* * *

"There maybe people after Sir Ken?" Idiots, not even realizing he was sitting right there and could hear them well enough to make out their words. In the Dojo's training hall, waiting patiently for his victim the hitokiri known as Battousai, he heard their conversation in the house. He had good senses and hearing was one of them. But the Kamiya girl wasn't exactly quiet when she spoke and the other woman, he'd get Nagakura for not being overly detailed in his descriptions of Battousai's companions later, who he guessed was Megumi Takani was only a notch less noisy. Of course it didn't help that any outside noise was mostly blocked out by the walls around the Dojo and so he couldn't really help it if he was eavesdropping…Hm…He wondered in amusement how much of a surprise it would be for them if they knew why he was here…and how much squawking they'd make about it then.

"Yes and I just have this feeling that they must be the same people who hurt Sanosuke!" Oh no, they were apparently smarter then he'd given them credit for, but still they were idiots and like all idiots they'd never figure out he'd been involved until it was too late.

"Then that means they're not only interested in Sir Ken, but those around him. We've all got to stay together and keep our eyes open for anything suspicious." Like he wasn't suspicious, eh?

He almost wanted to laugh at their easy trust; women were oh so easy to persuade to compliance so long as they had their imaged safety net in place. Tokio never would have been so gullible though, he'd taught her better. She'd never have trusted an officer merely because he wore his uniform, she'd at the least make sure he wasn't listening in on any conversations in the house and keep his wakizashi and her kaiken nearby.

His wife's face unwillingly came to mind and he remembered her saying goodbye to him today as he left for work. She'd worn a plain gray kimono because she'd planned on doing housework and some gardening and she didn't want to ruin a good kimono. Tsutomu had been sitting outside, practicing his new favorite word, "Aku," which he'd taught him a few weeks ago. Tokio had not taken kindly to his little lessons of words his son should know, particularly since the list included, but was not limited to, blood, evil, killing, etc. The little shit already had hell mastered thanks to Hiroshi's lack of tack.

And apparently teaching Tsutomu to strangle of his brother-in-law was a no-no too and had spelled no futon time for almost two weeks. The agony of those weeks had nearly made him consider forcing her or going to Yoshiwara, but she'd eventually relented and made him promise not to teach Tsutomu any more violent things. She'd never have to know he'd had a hand in the day his son would kill that stupid brother of hers by surprise choking.

He almost smiled at the thought of his Tsutomu strangling Morinosuke, but stopped himself. Now was probably not the best time to be contemplating his wife and family. He pushed their memories away, he could think on them after this ordeal.

"Hm… But we don't even know where Kenshin is right now." Was the Battousai struggling with the likes of that idiot he'd sent out? Surely not, but he'd been gone for too long.

"There's no need to worry about him being alone. He's not at all like this big dope sleeping like a log in front of us. It's best that we don't panic and simply stay here and wait. And it's safer here at the Dojo then anywhere else because the Police Chief sent one of his officers."

Another score against the two ladies' intelligence. He mentally figured they'd scored a good five in his books already, even a little suspicion would have been healthy, police officer or not his looks usually got a good deal of distrust, but these two girls were complete and utter trusting simpletons. He wondered if the Battousai's wandering lifestyle had rubbed off too much on those around him. He'd heard the Battousai had done a lot of good things, after all Nagakura, who'd kept him updated on the Battousai's movements his past couple months in Tokyo, had informed him the Battousai had saved and protected a lot of people, garnering trust along the way.

"That's true." A long stretch of silence reined between the two before the conversation veered off into another vein and gossip ruled them.

He snapped his neck, hearing the gentle crack of bone and smiled. He felt restless and the Battousai's prolonged fight was starting to unsettle him. Surely that foolish crony of Shibumi's wasn't taking this long? Did the Battousai decide to have lunch or had an errand after he took care of the business he'd sent his way? He ground his beck teeth together, dismissing the thought. The Battousai would return immediately after he'd finished with Akamatsu because he knew he was still out here and a danger to his friends. After all the letter he'd sent had been addressed by him, had it not?

Morinosuke briefly popped into his head shortly after Tokio's image invaded his thoughts. Her brother was the stupidest man alive. He ground his teeth together, trying to still his nerves. Morinosuke had stayed away from the illegal gambling halls since his arrest in February and seeing as it was May that was indeed a very good sign…but the idiot still kept insisting he teach him some kenjutsu. Morinosuke apparently already knew the bare basics of Itto Ryu, one of the styles he was quite familiar with himself, as it was taught to samurai sons in the part of Aizu he'd grown up in.

Of course that didn't mean he wanted to waste his little bit of precious leisure time teaching Morinosuke. Besides he was already giving Tokio her refresher course to make sure she remembered her lessons, which he found she remembered most of it, a good sign as it had been almost two years since she'd practiced any sword techniques with him. He just didn't have time to offer the idiot lessons. He had police duty, this recent hitokiri case from Okubo involving the Battousai, and his own personal hunt for another job.

A few months back he'd managed to get hired at a dojo, but he'd been forced to quit the job due to Okubo's insistence that he couldn't be tied down. He had a feeling Okubo had done that to make sure he would have time for the Battousai and Makoto Shishio case. Not that he liked it any, the money at the dojo had been pretty good pay as far as he was concerned so he'd made sure Okubo gave him a little incentive. Nice guy that he was he'd been kind enough not to bankrupt the government when he'd asked for his raise. What was a little yen in exchange for the security of Japan? Besides he hadn't had a raise since…oh…1873, maybe…hm…He felt he was entitled to a little pay raise if it ensured he'd be able to keep protecting Japan by being able to feed himself, no?

He had to focus on where he was, the Kamiya Dojo that the Battousai lived at. Right. One of the Kamiya girl's students was standing nearby and, who from his information he'd gotten from Nagakura, was called Myojin something. The boy was standing off to the side, his shinai resting on one shoulder. He was looking at least half alert so he gave the boy a point for the Kamiya team, he was smarter it appeared then his female companions, but he was as oblivious as they were to the fact that he was the enemy.

Looking the boy over from the corner of his eye made him wonder how old the boy was. Hardly more then ten he beat, but strife aged people so the boy looked about thirteen. From what Nagakura had gotten from his informants the boy had been rescued by the Battousai from a life of pick pocketing for the Yakuza. A good deed on the Battousai's part, but it was leading down a rickety road of self destruction for the Myojin boy.

Sure now he was relatively safe living in the Kamiya Dojo and being taught their weak swordsmanship, but would that self-sacrificing swordsmanship allow the boy to live a life untouched by evil. No. One day in the cruel real world where his life would be threatened and all he held dear could be taken away by whether or not he acted…Only the hard lesson of killing or death would teach the boy that no one was free to live in a dream land. Only once this false fantasy the Battousai and the Kamiya girl lived in showed its true colors would this boy realize the necessity of eradicating evil by the cutting edge of a sword used in righteous…as his was…or he'd go insane like Jin-e…or die… He hadn't realized he'd drawn his katana out a good faction until the boy's young surprised voice reached his ears.

"Wow! I thought that police men who were allowed to wear swords carried sabers, but you got a Japanese sword."

He blinked, frowning at his dark thoughts. "Sabers are brittle, I can't rely on them." His voice came smoothly, not a touch of his inner thoughts reaching the surface of his monologue. He speculated he should make his voice friendlier though, because he'd been just a tad too emotionless a moment ago, so when he spoke again he turned, smiled, and put false cheerfulness into his speech. "I was given special permission to carry this Japanese sword. To me these swords are the only real swords in the world."

"Oi," the boy smiled and for an instant he thought of Tsutomu. He wouldn't harm the boy in the fight that would ensue when the Battousai returned. He was not after all here for hostages. He wanted a good clean fight to the death and he didn't intent to lower himself by taking hostages or killing innocents. He had morals and despite the fact that he'd hurt that Zanza man he had good reason for it. The idiotic former fighter for hirer wouldn't have let him leave the Dojo without a fight. So he'd indulged him as he saw fit, it wasn't his fault the moron didn't know when to call it quits. He had warned him about the wound from his broken sword, had he not? But Zanza, he refused to called him anything else, it brought back unwanted memories of another man with that name, had gotten up and made him resume the fight. Well at least he hadn't killed the idiot, which would have been a life that would have weighted heavily on him. Zanza was not the in the category of evil, he was just stupid like Morinosuke. He wondered if Morinosuke would have turned out as stupidly stubborn about fighting as Zanza if his life had been different.

His ears pricked at the noisy Kamiya girl, she was talking to someone who wasn't that Takani woman. He smirked, oh yes his adversity was here for it was his voice that responded to the girl. He'd enjoy the surprise and anger he knew the Battousai would feel when he found his loved ones had been watched over by his greatest nemesis from the Bakumatsu.

He smirked as the Kamiya girl said, "This gentleman is Assistant Inspector Goro Fujita and he's been waiting to see you."

He heard the grasp and reveled in the pleasure of a plan gone perfectly. He didn't turn around, instead he spoke facing the wall before him. "You had a hard time with Akamatsu. You've grown much weaker then I expected.

It was the truth, the Battousai really was pitiful now, just as Nagakura and Okubo had told him. He hated the idea, loathed it that the Battousai was nothing more then a fly who could be brushed aside with his katana, but perhaps that wasn't the case. The wandered could be killed without a sweat, but if he had a shred of the manslayer he once was left in him maybe he could draw him back out and find the man he remembered.

"The last time we fought was I believe Toba-Fushimi, wasn't it? It's been ten years." All thoughts of Tokio, Tsutomu, and his life in this era forgotten at the moment as he remembered a not so distant past.

The Kamiya girl asked how he knew Battousai and the man did not disappoint him with his response at least. "I see, so you've changed your name to Goro Fujita now."

"Ten years. It's only two little words, but those years were very long to live through." They had been. Fighting and struggling until the bitter end in Aizu, his imprisonment in Echigo Providence, Yaso, his divorce, his work as a hitokiri, becoming a police officer, marrying Tokio… Learning that even he could be loved and love another person…hm… Tsutomu's birth, already a surprising year and some months old.

"You're right. They were long enough for some people to become rotten to the core."

"What's going on, Kenshin?" The girl sounded vaguely despondent and bewildered, he stifled the urge to quiet her voice. How dare she call him that name, he was the Battousai and he would take up his sword and kill as he'd once done. There was no use in remaining in this false sense of justice and peace. It would be shattered one way or another, either here and now by him or by someone being killed when the weak wanderer he was couldn't protect someone. He wouldn't allow that to happen.

He ignored her, stepping forward, speaking as he did. "Jin-e Udo was a madman from the very beginning, but you were a type of man. Back then you had an indescribable strength within and whenever you entered battle you made sure to fight fair and square, without foul play. You would not hurt the people around your target in order to shock them or send a dog in your place and then take hostages while that dog created a diversion. You never resorted to dirty tricks like this," he laughed, no longer able to stand the Battousai's stupidity. How had he been so misjudged, he wondered, trying to control his laughter as the Battousai finished his rant. "You are no longer a man I once acknowledged as a true warrior, Hajime Saito, Leader of the Third Squad of the Shinsengumi."

Him a trickster? Ha. Foul play? Even more laughable. He certainly had not taken hostages, he'd just come here for a little duel and what was this about a dog? He smirked as the girl and boy put two and two together and somehow managed to equal that to four. He was quite surprised they had even figured that out, but he'd give the Battousai his due. The Battousai had certainly been ruffled and his reasoning would have been sound if he'd been more evil, but there was no truth to his reasoning. Now he'd play the game, if only because he saw the Battousai's sharp look of reproach. It was his turn to talk now.

He stood, a smug smile on his face. His next words would be delivered as precisely as any sword swing. He approached slowly, his steps the only sound before his voice joined the song of his footfalls. "I was afraid your sword had become rusty, but I didn't think your brain would be this rusty as well. Akamatsu was a dog? A weakling like him couldn't even begin to fulfill the role of a dog. We of the Shinsengumi know the strength of Battousai the manslayer better then anyone else. However you had trouble today, even against the likes of Akamatsu. Being a wanderer that doesn't kill as obviously made you weaker, Battousai."

"You think―."

"Kenshin's weaker," finished the girl for the Myojin boy.

"As long as I have the strength of a wanderer to protect the people in my life then that's good enough for me," he kept himself from using his Gatotsu on the Battousai right now. The girl was too close that she might get injured if he attacked, besides he wanted to show the Battousai in words before they fought why he was an idiot now. Didn't the Battousai see his error? The strength of a wanderer could protect no one, much less his loved ones. Moron. "I no longer need the strength of a manslayer, of a murderer, that I do not."

"If that is the case then even as the wanderer you are now you're a failure," he watched with amusement the twitch the Battousai gave as he unbuttoned the top buttons of his uniform. A sweet realization would soon descend upon his blind stupor of the last ten years. "While your hands were full fighting Akamatsu I was here the whole time. On top of that your ignorant friends let their guards down so easily simply because I happened to be a police officer. In other words If I had wanted to kill them," he drew his katana from its sheath, "I could have done so at any time."

Do you see Battousai, he wondered as he held the man's gaze. The Battousai could live a peaceful life with the occasional evil cropping up into his bubble of a world, but if he didn't handle that evil by exterminating it he was useless and he was not worthy to protect the lives of innocent people. He was a disgrace.

Tokio being raped by the Yakuza thugs came to his mind. Even with his strength he'd failed her, but the wanderer the great Battousai had become was much weaker then he was. He would have killed them all if he'd been able to by himself, but they'd got either swift deaths by the government or imprisonment so justice had been executed. But the Battousai was living a fantasy and he was about to brutally tear down the walls of his escapism and show him reality. The fact that he'd enjoy doing so was just an added bonus.

"But it wasn't only this time. When you fought Jin-e and again with Kanryu you allowed the people in your life to fall into your enemies hands and even more pathetic you allowed a complete fool like Raijuta to wound you in battle." He would give the last few killing blows to the Battousai's shattering made-believe peace. "Mediocre strength is as good as nothing and the words of a hypocrite are empty words that disgust me."

"What do you know? Kenshin was there helping people that's why no one got hurt and everything turned out alright! Kenshin was there to protect everyone, you creep!"

"Is that so," he smirked inwardly, "Then what about Zanza, the fighter for hirer? If I had wanted to I could have broken him immediately."

"You did that to Sanosuke!" Damn that name! Why did Harada's name have to be so damn similar to this idiot friend of the Battousai's? He kept his features schooled, to show even the faintest touch of unease in front of his enemy was never good and might give him leverage.

Ignoring the child who stared at him incredulously he spat out. "The real Battousai would have seen that right away. As you said ten years was long enough for some people to become rotten." He heard the hard edge in his words, slightly annoyed with his harsh tone. He shouldn't show any emotion, but it was hard when he was so aggravated by the Battousai's foolishness.

"Drowning yourself in this false sense of justice, a wanderer that doesn't kill, how can Battousai the manslayer protect people without slaying others? Have you forgotten…Aku Soku Zan…Slay Evil Immediately. That was the one truth about justice that we had in common. It's unbearable for me to see you standing there as the man you have become, Battousai," his sword in front of his face, his eyes and tone as hard as the steel in his hands.

The Battousai's eyes were firmly closed, "It doesn't matter what you say to me." His eyes opened with his next words, "I have no intention of ever taking the life of another person again."

So the Battousai was firmly resolved to his idiocy, he mused, slightly surprised by the conviction in the Battousai's words. It would not be easy to turn him back back into a killer, but that would just make it more enjoyable.

"I see," he got into his Gatotsu stance, "Then I will deny you your entire false existence."


	36. Chapter 36: Tokyo, 1878, Part 3

Walking back from the Kamiya Dojo was a pain in that it gave him time to feel his wounds. His neck hurt from the Battousai's sword strike, his right knee had gotten bruised a bit, and his forehead still remembered the sharp impact as his head hit the wall. He rubbed his head, wiping the blood away with the sleeve of his jacket.

The air was slightly cool now that the sun had descended. He pulled the jacket over his stiff shoulders, buttoning only the bottom three to keep the chill at bay until he got into the warm comfort of his house. The sky had been light when he'd entered the Dojo, but was dark and few people passed him as he walked through back alleys taking the quickest route home.

Tokio had prepared dinner probably an hour ago and was wondering where the heck her husband who never missed dinner was. He'd need to diffuse the situation right when he walked in. She'd freak out if he didn't soothe her fears quickly. He still remembered her reactions to his other wounds. He couldn't reveal to her without causing her distress that tonight might have been his last on this world if Okubo hadn't gotten involved.

The walk felt much longer then it usually did. He waited outside his house, taking a cigarette out and smoking, trying to come up with a good plan that would quickly end any pain his wife would feel at the sight of his injuries. He flicked the growing ash off his cigarette, frowning. He could leave right now, go find Shibumi and Akamatsu, and finish off their pitiful excuses for existences, which would indirectly give him more time to come up with a strategy for how to ease Tokio's pain. He'd originally planned on sneaking out when Tokio was sleeping and killing them a little later. He frowned, cigarette tipped to one side of his mouth.

"Saito-kun," Nagakura whispered coming up behind him like a shadow suddenly transforming into a person. He had always thought Nagakura would have made a good hitokiri if he'd wanted to, but he had refused to work for Okubo when the man had asked his assistance and since then things had been tense between the Shinsengumi Captain and the Meiji loyalist. Not that he blamed Nagakura, he was sure the man had his reasons.

"Shinpachi," he mumbled, blowing out smoke, his cigarette raised to his lips but not touching them.

"Can't you ever use an honorific with me? I always feel like you don't take me seriously when you call me Shinpachi…"

"Get to the reason you're here. I don't have time to wrestle with you." He'd never told anyone, much less any of the Shinsengumi, that when he referred to someone without an honorific it was his greatest show of respect. No one, expect for perhaps Tokio, understood that and always seem to think he was being disrespectful.

Nagakura sighed, looking annoyed, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. "How did it go?"

"Who told you?"

He grinned impishly, "You really think I wouldn't know, nh? I've got half the population of Tokyo as spies, Saito-kun, you know that. Ain't nothing happening in Tokyo I don't know about."

"Hm," he flicked his ash off in the direction of Nagakura, who side stepped the offending ash and glared at him, his hand resting on his katana. "You do know that carrying a katana around in public was outlawed in the sixth year of the Meiji, Shinpachi. Don't make me arrest you."

"I figured you let it go since you haven't tried, the whole comrade-in-arms thing I assumed was the reason you're so lenient, but try to arrest me if you can… I don't think you have the strength in you right now to be fighting me. The Battousai may be a wanderer now, but he gave you a good fight."

Saito ignored him, bristling slightly with the fact that Nagakura was so damn perceptive. Stupid Shinpachi. He took a drag, "How's that monument in Itabashi coming along?"

Nagakura grinned, "Real good, the repairs are almost done. You remember hearing about the vandalizing by some idiots, but we caught the kids and they won't be doing it again. Bring the family by to come see it some time. I'm sure Tokio-san would like to see it."

"You built it by Jutoku-ji temple, right?"

"Yes. Oi, you haven't even seen it yet?"

"Haven't had time."

"It's been up since 1875, what you mean you ain't got time? That's it; you, me, and your family are going to see it. I won't take no for an answer. And I figure since you did help pay for it. Oh, Saito-kun…"

"Hm," he glanced at the man from the corner of his eyes, aware of the thorough scrutiny he was suddenly receiving from his old comrade.

"He hurt you pretty badly for a wanderer."

"He wasn't a wanderer at the end of it." A pause. "He was the Battousai, he and I would have killed each other had Okubo-san not arrived on time." Silence again, this time because he took a drag of his cigarette and crushed it out under his heel. "It was intense, Shinpachi, almost like we were back in the Bakumatsu…" He frowned, glancing over at Nagakura who was deadly serious now, frowning as well. Both men would never forget those times, forever lodged away in darkness in the back of their minds. "But of course he reverted back to his new persona after the duel. I don't know how much help he'll be in stopping Makoto Shishio if he agrees to, but I'm hoping he changes his mindset and realizes his error."

"The Battousai," Nagakura said uncomfortably, his brow furrowed. "Makes me nervous just thinking about that guy," he laughed, rubbing the back of his head, trying to dispel his misgivings. "I can't say I'd ever want to cross blades with him again, I've no desire to fight anymore in this new era unless I need to."

"You're just like him, only attacking when provoked, but you'd kill your adversity where he wouldn't. And for that little difference, Shinpachi, you've my respect and him none."

Nagakura smiled, looking pleased with that assessment, "How your wife and kid?"

"As always."

Nagakura raised a brow when Saito said no more, shrugging his shoulders stiffly after a moment, "What you ain't gonna ask about my family to be polite?"

"You're barking up the wrong tree if you think I give a damn about your personal life."

"Never could make polite conversation, could you, Saito-kun. No wonder the Battousai got provoked into fighting you, eh?"

Saito smirked, "Okita would certainly agree with you."

Nagakura laughed, sobering after a moment when his thoughts of Okita turned sour. "I heard poor Okita-kun died with only a few relatives with him. No one of the Shinsengumi could see him off…makes me feel a little sad that Okita-kun, one of the most devoted to our cause, never had at least one of us there, you now? So he knew we wouldn't forget him…"

"By remembering Okita he's never really died, Nagakura, and I'm sure in the end he knew we'd not forget." The two men stared at each other, the shorter one surprised that the taller one could actually say something so profound. "If not, pfff, Okita always was an idiot."

Nagakura nearly laughed out loud, it was just like Saito to say something moving and then ruin it by turning it into an insult. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Be ready at noon, nh?"

"I never said we were going."

"You're going and no protesting or I'll go inside and tell Tokio-san. And we both know if she likes the idea, and I'm sure it will appeal to her, you'd be forced to go, so give in now before you just cause a fight, hm. Tomorrow at noon I'll come and get you guys. Bring Ryoko-san and Tsutomu-san." So saying he then disappeared like an apparition and Saito sighed. Stupid Shinpachi. At least he'd given him some time to think.

Going inside he found that Tokio was sitting with Katamori. Katamori saw him first because he was facing the door, but he knew Tokio had heard his arrival. He walked over in his socks, his shoes in the getabako, and sat down seiza. Katamori had turned a ghastly pale color, his eyes wide in surprise at his disheveled appearance.

He slipped out of his police jacket, folding it neatly in his lap, aware of the stare of Matsudaira and Tokio.

"Nagakura has invited us to go to Jutoku-ji temple in Itabashi Ward to view a monument he erected to the Shinsengumi."

Silence filled his ears and he waited, knowing in a moment Katamori and Tokio would remember that speech was possible and he'd get a good chewing out. When none came, he opened an eye a crack and glanced at his silent wife. God help him if she started crying…

She looked perfectly composed, but for the tightness of her lips and the clutching of her hands in her lap. There was also a little slump to her shoulders. Oh shit. She was going to wait until Katamori left before she did anything and his stomach lurched at that. She was either really pissed or emotional right now. He hoped for the first as he asked her to get him some tea. She left the room and he was alone with Katamori.

"What happened," Matsudaira asked, looking him up and down with a look of half annoyance half anger. It was very rare to see the man bear even a touch of anything but politeness or happiness in his face, but it was there now and Saito had a strong urge to flee to the Kamiya Dojo and end what he had started with the Battousai earlier if only to avoid disappointing Katamori.

"Battousai," he muttered, closing his eyes so he wouldn't see Katamori's critical look.

"The Battousai from the Bakumatsu? That hitokiri?" He heard the incredulous tone in Katamori's voice. "I'm surprised you're alive if you fought that man."

"Hm, you've no faith in me, Katamori-sama."

"I have plenty, Goro-kun, but the Battousai's not the type of man to be defeated easily. What did your head hit? You've got a nasty bump started."

"I went through a wall," he opened his eyes. Tokio had come back just in the nick of time to catch those words, her pursed lips turning to a sharp frown. He didn't like her face with a frown, he much preferred her smile.

Katamori stayed for half an hour longer, Tokio fussing with Tsutomu's diaper change in the other room as Ryoko, who'd returned from visiting a friend, (it wouldn't have surprised him if Morinosuke was that 'friend') started the clean up. He helped put the dishes in the basin and dried them while Ryoko washed. Of course when Tokio saw him working with his injuries he got a firm brief scolding before being shipped off to the bedroom as Tokio took over drying.

She was pissed, he could tell by her mannerisms. He took a cigarette out, lit it, and took a drag as he looked at himself in the only mirror in the house. He didn't look great, but better then he might have had the Battousai hit him with the sharp side of his Sakabatou. All in all he was just grateful to have his head because it wouldn't have been attached had the Battousai's sharp side hit his neck instead of the blunt edge. He had a damn good bruise though.

Tokio came into their bedroom not ten minutes later with bandages and ointment, looking thoroughly sullen as she helped him reluctantly out of his shirt. His jacket, gloves, and hat had been left in the living area. He watched her calmly assess his injuries, her frown a permanent fixture as she went about it. After her evaluation she sighed and actually seem to perk up slightly.

She even ventured, "I'm glad it's not as bad as when you fought Jin-e… No cuts that need switching are what I call a good sign."

He smirked faintly, "No lecturing is what I call a good sign, Tokio."

"I never said that wasn't coming…Hajime," one hand tightened painfully on his arm, her face suddenly serious, "Who'd you fight with? Not Jin-e again I hope, I thought he'd left Tokyo."

"He went to Niigata, but returned when he heard a certain man was in Tokyo. He challenged him to a duel and apparently having lost he committed seppuku."

Her eyes went wide, "Jin-e lost? How? He's a good fighter…" Her face showed her fear, if someone had beaten Jin-e that meant he was better then Jin-e. And not many were as good as that lunatic was with a sword these days, he knew, so she was probably going to either start crying or hyperventilating. Neither action thrilled him.

He made his voice soothing or at least as soothing as he could, he wasn't particularly good yet at comforting people. It was still something Tokio was teaching him and grunting or being gruff right now seemed a bad idea. Or so she'd told him one time when he'd tried fruitlessly to comfort Tsutomu after he'd scraped his knee. He'd grunted and even went so far as to pat the boy's head, but apparently that wasn't good comforting and he'd run off to find Tokio, who was apparently the best at soothing his childish feelings.

"He was no one important."

"Don't lie to me, Hajime. I know how good you are with a sword and if Jin-e, who hurt you with his, was defeated by this man then that means he's close if not equal to your strength…" She didn't dare say he was stronger because if he was Saito wouldn't have returned home. He also figured she didn't say it because the thought that someone in this era could possibly kill him probably terrified her.

He took the ointment for his wounds from her and rubbed some on his sore neck. The cool liquid against his warm skin was refreshing and after a moment of watching him Tokio went behind him and started to massage the oil into his neck and shoulders. Her hands, small and gentle, eased out the tension in him. He felt more relaxed then he had all day, his anxiousness over her reaction about his fight and unease feeling of uncertainty about whether he'd win the fight today left with the stiffness.

He sighed, letting the realization that he'd survived today finally dawn on him with all the repercussions involved. A part of him had been prepared for death, but he'd known his death would have negative effects on his family and that had made him fight all the more fiercely. It wasn't only himself he was saving as he'd done in the Shinsengumi, he had family to live for now. Tokio would be inconsolable to put it lightly and Tsutomu would have grown up hardly remembered his father if at all.

He was glad, he mused after a long moment, that the Battousai hadn't been up to his usual fighting excellence. And he was annoyed at himself for feeling that. He wanted the Battousai back, it was necessity for the Makoto Shishio affair and so that the Battousai could better protect those idiot friends of his. Why did he feel such conflicting feelings?

For him everything had always been black or white. There was and would never be any middle ground. Either you did what was right or you paid for your evil through death. Yet the Battousai in his idiocy had spared him today, not perhaps because he'd wanted to, but because he'd vowed never to kill again and he held firmly to that vow, even though he loathed his guts. He could admire the Battousai's conviction to his stance, just as he'd admired him during the Bakumatsu for his cause, but he didn't have to condone it.

So why was a part of him disappointed with the Battousai's lack of murderous intent during the battle and another part happy about it? He wanted to gouge the girlish man's eyes out right about now. Stupid redhead and his stupid pacifist ideals. He chalked down his feelings to two things. The wanting the Battousai to be a killing machine was from his old Shinsengumi days where everyone was a little blood and gore crazy. The second was his relief that he wouldn't cause his family, particularly his wife, pain over his death. So he was split in two about what he wanted and he didn't like it one bit.

He did not deal well with two contradicting feelings in his breast. It made him feel out of equilibrium with himself. And seeing as most of his ideas about right and wrong came in black and white most of his feelings usually fell in one category too. And one feeling fell into the good category and the stupid relieved one fell into the bad category. And since most of his feelings usually were spot-on in the good category he wasn't sure what he should do about this bad feeling. Should he commit seppuku now?

"Tokio?"

"Hm," she was still massaging his shoulders, but she was doing it absentmindedly, like she was thinking hard about something.

"When I went to fight him today I was suppose to check his ability to kill and get him to take up slaying people again. I…I desired, I still do, that he become the man I remember from the Bakumatsu. He was an incredibly strong man, a worthy adversity not only because of his skill with a sword, but because he was so devoted to his cause. He thought he was completely right about his stance back then…now that he's given up killing…It's almost like a slap to the face. Like he's saying he regretted fighting for his ideals now that it's all over. I…I can't understand that because I've never regretted my time with the Shinsengumi. I was protecting Kyoto and its inhabitants and the Choshu was the most pressing enemy at the time. We lost, but I don't regret fighting because we lost and life was hell for a while after that. Moreover then everything I…I just can't…um…" He wasn't sure how to express his next sentiments without sounding like a pansy.

He sighed, there was no way around it. "I'm glad though that he didn't fight with the intensity I wanted him too and yet I'm frustrated, so goddamn frustrated, he didn't fight me with all he had. I want a good fight, a fight like the old times, not a half fought fight on his part…yet I don't…Shit," he slumped his shoulders, not sure if she understood what he was trying to get at.

One arm reached around him and touched his cheek softly and he sighed, feeling stupid. "Hajime…I can't say I completely understand what you're feeling, I'm not you after all, but I sympathize with your feelings. To you the Battousai's refusal to kill is…rightly a smack to your pride in your own past…but perhaps the Battousai doesn't look at his past so fondly. As a hitokiri I'm sure he regrets some things he might have done."

"Humph. The Battousai had morals, Tokio, he wouldn't have killed innocents, even more so in the name of the revolution he valued so much. He wanted to protect the citizens as much as the Shinsengumi, he just had a different decidedly more stupid way of going about it." She laughed playfully for a second, one hand gently stroking his chest lazily. "What was funny about what I just said?"

"A great deal more then you will ever understand, husband."

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that?"

"Why not? We're alone and I like being possessive just as much as you do."

He snorted, reaching his hand up to clasp her hand and still it. "You hardly seem fazed that it was the Battousai I fought."

A long stretch of silence, her head rested on his shoulder, kissing his neck softly. "Well I'd be more pissed if you'd gotten killed, but since you're alive and in pretty good condition all things considered I'm not that angry that it was the legendary Battousai you fought."

"That's…" he hesitated, uncertain if he was being baited, "good…"

She nipped at his ear which amused him instantly, she didn't usually like playing with his ears, though he certainly enjoyed it. "My little puppy needs a little scratching behind the ears, hm?" She mumbled in between nipping and suckling his ear.

He moaned softly, slightly annoyed at the teasing but more then happy to bear it if it meant she'd continue her ministrations to his ear. "Oi, Tokio, keep doing that…"

"You're tail is waggling back and forth, Hajime koishii."

"I'm not a…um…dog…I'm a wolf and we don't wag our damn tails…oh yeah…"

She laughed and he thought the sound was decidedly cheekier then he liked. Damn her big ego. "Oh yeah? I swear wolves wag their tails too."

"Shut up, they don't."

"Well I guess miracles happen and you're the first Wolf to, honey."

"What the hell is with that? I'd prefer koishii over honey, thank you."

"You would."

"I'll ignore that if you stop talking. It's distracting you from my ear and my ear is lonely without your mouth there."

She snorted into his ear, making him grimace, damn his hyper alert senses for once. But then her tongue was there and he moaned with pleasure. He wouldn't tell her, it would just be an unneeded ego booster, but he was pretty sure if he was in fact a Miburo he really would be wagging his tail. Oh, gods what would he do without Tokio?


	37. Chapter 37: Tokyo, 1878, Part 4

Ok so two quick updates because these two chapters were orginally together but I split them up for easier reading so R&R and enjoy.

* * *

Saito sighed, he hated life right now. Shinpachi was an asshole and Tsutomu was really starting to annoy him. Nagakura had arrived at their house at noon today and nearly knocked the door down when no one answered. Saito for his part had forgotten about going to the monument today and had a rude Nagakura at the door telling him to get dressed. After almost an hour of fussing Tokio deemed herself, Tsutomu, Ryoko, Morinosuke who'd suddenly showed up and wanted to come, and him all ready to go to the temple to see the monument. So Nagakura had procured four rickshaws and off they'd gone to Itabashi Ward.

He hated rickshaws so much. Usually because they were annoyingly bumpy and cramping more then two people into one was hazardous. He much preferred a carriage if he had to be inside a moving vessel. At least carriages were a little bit smoother in the ride department and offered more room for movement. Walking of course was much more his cup of tea.

It didn't help his mood any that Tsutomu ha been lulled to sleep during the course of the ride. His head was nestled on his shoulder and he was snoring embarrassingly loud. Tokio, sitting with Ryoko in her rickshaw, stole glances of embarrassment in their direction, even going so far as to say to Ryoko. "They'd look so much cuter if he wasn't snoring…Oh well..."

He glared at her whenever she chose to look over at them, crossing his arms, glaring at Tsutomu when Tokio wasn't goggling them. His mood had rolled drastically downhill ever since Nagakura's sudden appearance. But then again Nagakura usually brought his mood down anyway; he surmised he should be accustomed to it after all these years. Tokio and Tsutomu must have been Nagakura's accomplices in making him pissed off.

He lifted Tsutomu's head when the rickshaw stopped in Itabashi Ward near the temple. Yuck…Tsutomu had drooled onto his shoulder. He flicked the boy in the head, his annoyance with the world only growing as he used Tsutomu's sleeve to wipe the offending spot away. Yuck…eww… He could stand blood on his clothes just fine, but human saliva and snot were not tolerated. Thank goodness his son had enough self preservation not to blow his nose on him because he'd be begging for death if that happened.

"Get your ass off me right now."

His son blinked bleary eyes at him, cocking his head to one side, raising the sleeve Saito had used to rub off the saliva to his face. He blinked, becoming more awake as he asked in a soft groggy voice, "How come my sleeves wet, snake head?"

Saito whacked the boy on the back of the head. He knew better then to call him snake head in public (he still refused to believe his bangs looked like snake's coming out of his hairline) and he was still annoyed at being drooled on. "A few guesses," he gestured to his still damp shoulder and then to the boy's sleeve.

"Oi!" Tsutomu looked around then, "Where's Kachan?"

He paid the driver, thanking him, and helped Tsutomu get down. "Over with Nagakura-san."

"I see. Kachan!" Tsutomu slipped from his grip, running through the busy crowd to where Tokio stood with Nagakura, Morinosuke, and Ryoko. "Kachan! Snake head hit me!"

Tokio looked amused at then, "Is that so? Show me where he hit you."

"Right here," Tsutomu pushed his dark hair off his head and Tokio leaned down and kissed it. Humph. Why didn't she kiss his wounds when he got injured? Oh right because that would probably only hurt more. Lucky little bastard.

"Snake head," Nagakura looked confused, "who's that?"

Morinosuke laughed which he silenced with a hard glare. "Tsu-chan calls Goro-san that because of his hair. His bangs kinda look like snakes I guess…I think they look more like antennas but whatever."

"Shut up, Morinosuke-san, or I'll knock your teeth in." Tokio gave him an annoyed look, probably because she didn't like his threatening. Pfff. Big deal. Morinosuke was an idiot.

"Can we go to the monument now," Ryoko asked Nagakura, trying to diffuse the growing tension.

"A good idea, it's this way," Nagakura said. He started off in the direction of the monument and everyone trailed behind him. Tokio held Tsutomu's right hand while Ryoko took his left. Morinosuke walked in front with Nagakura, talking excitedly about the upcoming Kanda Matsuri on Saturday. Hm…If things with Okubo worked out he'd be gone before then. Shit. He still had to tell Tokio about that.

He glanced around, his suspicions flaring suddenly with the hair on the back of his neck. What the hell? Was someone giving them more scrutiny then was strictly necessity for a family and friends? He glanced around wearily, wondering who the hell would take any interest in them. He spotted the perpetrator, a tall man standing in the doorway of a nearby shop. He made a mental note about the man's figure, not being able to see his face or any distinguishing characteristics.

Hm…strange…a hitokiri? Perhaps…but why would he be hiding himself in the light of day when he would go unnoticed otherwise? Strange behavior indeed, unless he was trying to draw his gaze…but what fool would do such a thing? A hitokiri looking for a fight.

The man's body quickly disappeared when he noticed he had been caught. He wondered vaguely if he was just too paranoid, not every man standing around was about to jump him and his pack. Still caution was good to have, he noted, frowning, even in this era of the Meiji peace wasn't all encompassing.

He trailed behind the group, keeping a ready eye out for anyone else. Perchance Shishio's informants had told him he'd taken the case and he planned to strike first. Not a bad assumption, but it was not fitting exactly into a neat puzzle when one considered Shishio's man probably didn't know what he looked like. Unless they talked to an old dog from the Bakumatsu, but that didn't seem likely.

Paranoid, he told himself, there was nothing to the man leaning in the doorway, but a customer dallying. Since when did most customers' dally though, usually they sped out of their specific shops with haste, not wanting to linger as other thought consumed them. He was of the same accord when it came to shops, get in and out fast and don't attract unneeded attention.

Perhaps he'd been waiting for someone, but why linger in the doorway…Why not go to a booth and wait it out with some warm tea near the windows? The obvious and only rational thought that quickly came to mind to explain the situation was that the man, hitokiri or not, was waiting for his arrival and spotting him had made his way to the doorway to watch his passing.

Hm…that seemed much more likely. It might be someone who knew him from back then, a hitokiri wouldn't have stood so blatantly out in the open, or at least not an experienced one. So that left him as likely an old acquaintance, comrade, or enemy. Still it certainly narrowed the potential list down if only slightly.

If it was an enemy a good hitokiri would have waited sneakily in the shadows, attacked when he was sure he had the right man, and when no witness' were around. The situation was far from ideal. He needed more clues though and he didn't really have that much time to clear up this mess before he left.

He hadn't noticed until just now that Tokio and the others had stopped. He saw the monument and felt his stomach drop. What the hell? Why of all things Nagakura could have erected he put up a damn statue of Hijikata? As much as he respected Hijikata the man didn't in his mind represent the whole Shinsengumi.

"I'm not impressed," he remarked after the others' had praised the statue.

"Well, no one ever asked you, Goro-kun," Nagakura said, crossing his arms, grinning up at the monument, "Ain't too shabby if I say so myself. Got some real good stone to make it too. Oi, did you read the plaque at the bottom? It's all about how Hijikata started the Shinsengumi up with a bunch of misfits from Edo and formed us all into killin' crazies."

"Killing crazies huh…I don't remember that part. Of course I also don't remember the misfits from Edo crap either, Nagakura. I remember some samurai from the Shieikan in Kyoto who Kondo and Hijikata by some miracle managed to convince to do something with themselves. Of course, it probably wasn't really much of a miracle; most of the idiots I remember were drunk before noon and pissed their days away around the Dojo Kondo had been head of."

"Pfff, you got your facts all screwy, Goro-kun. Most of us were from Edo. Okita, myself, you, Hijikata-sama, and Kondo-sama…Lots more too."

"I do believe that was five people you listed from Edo while the rest of the four hundred members when we were at our highest numbers were hardly from Edo." Saito smirked, noticed Nagakura's beginning protestations and beat him to it. "And before the real Shinsengumi formed the Mibu Roshi were hardly all from Edo. Serizawa himself wasn't and Niimi his right hand wasn't neither. I do believe, Nagakura old comrade, that I've won this little spar."

"Ass."

"You're mistaken, I'm Wolf."

"Bastard."

"No that's you. My parents were married. Your she-wolf mother and badger father on the other hand…"

"You are kiddin' me right? I do believe I will never forget the momentous moment the great stoical Wolf of Mibu just admitted his own parentage."

"Hahaha."

"Oi you know you love me, Wolf," he grinned violently before he receiving a swift jab to the gut.

"Stop saying oi."

"Oi, I can't believe you just said it."

"I swear to all that is holy and good in this world if you don't shut the fuc―."

"Mind your words, Goro-kun, Tsu-chan's here," Tokio interjected, looking thoroughly displeased.

"Humph," he crossed his arms and glared at the ground. He was feeling more and more like a docile dog with his tail constantly between his legs around Tokio, instead of the bloodthirsty violent Mibu Wolf he was. How annoying today was proving. Oh and if Tokio thought tonight was just for sleeping she was dead wrong. He'd make her pay for his wounded pride one way or another and hopefully she'd take a shinning to his ear while they were at it.

He walked the parameter of his companions, like a Wolf watchfully pacing back and forth. He was aware that his protective circling was annoying Tokio and amusing Nagakura. Morinosuke was too stupidly oblivious to notice, Tsutomu was a child so his obliviousness was understandable, and Ryoko just looked anxious at the possessiveness that was waffling off him.

Hm…all his suspicious behavior of a moment ago was back as he saw the man from earlier. He was standing not facing him this time, his dark head facing the entrance of a shop, but he knew the figure and stance. He narrowed his eyes, frowning. What kind of idiot was he dealing with? Did he mistake this Wolf of Mibu for a blind moron? For sure appearing twice in such a short span of time was stupid and even his unintelligent brother-in-law wouldn't have risked it. Either his opponent was more arrogant than him or he took him for an imbecile. Both were insulting to his pride.

Tokio grabbed his arm suddenly and he nearly whirled on her and struck her down, thinking her the enemy. Of course he'd heard her approach but he hadn't expected her to touch his arm. He relaxed, aware that his real enemy was watching he made off his sudden raised hand as if he meant to caress her. Her eyes as his hand touched her soft cheek portrayed that she knew why he was doing it.

"Tokio…you see that man there in the doorway of the tea house. Be weary, he's following us."

Her tone went low like his, her eyes not openly glancing at the man he'd pointed out. "I'll be watchful," she smiled and kissed his cheek before running off to make sure Morinosuke didn't drop Tsutomu. His son waved at him, dangling his feet around Morinosuke's shoulders, laughing and grinning as the man spun around.

He went back to Nagakura who was chatting happily with Ryoko as Morinosuke was busy. "Nagakura," he said in way of greeting.

"You noticed him too, Saito-kun," Shinpachi asked. His smile was present for appearance sake but Saito recognized the serious gleam in his eyes.

"Yes."

"Want to intercept him before we head back? We could find out if he has an employer or what his deal is if nothing else. Be a real shame to just pass this guy up right now, nh?"

"I'm undecided yet on how good an idea that would be. He might start a ruckus if we try anything out here so openly and frankly I don't want to have to deal with a riot because of one stupid man. I suggest either you or me follow him to his residence and deal with him there while the other takes everyone home and makes sure they get back safely. We can't be sure if it's just one man we're dealing with."

"Right so you escort your family home and I'll deal with the weirdo."

"Nagakura…"

"What?"

"Why don't you take my family home."

"Huh? What kinda sense is that, Saito-kun?"

"Perfect sense actually. You're not good at interrogating if I remember correctly, you always got so aggravated when the man insulted you or kept silent. I'll be much more effective if I take him down. I know how to work a man…"

"I don't think I like that look in your eye. You aren't thinkin' of dropping the guy from a building, ripping a toe nail off, or other bodily harm, right?"

Saito smirked, "Actually I was thinking of that time Hijikata tortured some man about the Ikedaya Incident."

Nagakura looked nervous, "Hm…yeah…most of that was rumor you know. Hijikata certainly didn't drive spikes into the man's feet or pour wax into the wounds. I was there, I'd certainly remember that."

Saito snorted, "Well, no one ever said I couldn't use rumors to my advantage."


	38. Chapter 38: Tokyo, 1878, Part 5

Hope you enjoy, R&R please.

* * *

Tokio glanced at the cold soba, wondering if she should throw it out or heat it up incase he came back. She sipped her tea, set it down, and sat disregarding her sowing for now.

She frowned, something was wrong with Saito. She'd noticed it for a few days now. He gave no outward signs a person who didn't know him well would have picked up as strange, but Tokio had known him for years so she caught most of them easily.

Just the other morning she'd caught him standing before the mirror, slowly buttoning up his jacket for work. Usually he did that before the door of their bedroom, quickly looping each button into the proper hole. He didn't speed through the process, but he didn't dally the way he'd done that morning. This bizarre action either meant he was stressed out about something serious or was thinking on something about his Shinsengumi past. Neither were good things in her mind.

Then a day or so before that he'd been cleaning his katana in their bedroom. She'd come into the room to find him slouching down with the katana parts spread out before him in a neat arrangement. The reason this was strange was that he wasn't working dutifully in cleaning the blade and parts as he normally would have and instead was just sitting there staring at the newly polished blade in thought.

And then a few days before that he'd been shaving in front of the only mirror in the house. He had actually nicked himself which had gotten a good laugh from Morinosuke, a playful jab from Hiroshi, a smile from Katamori, and a good taut from Teru. But it was Saito and to her it didn't make sense. He'd never in all the years she'd known him nicked himself with a razor. He was always meticulous, precise, and slow when he shaved to prevent any cuts. That day had been the first sign that something was unsettling her husband.

She didn't want to follow the other trail of thought that came after her realization of his rare behavior. She wrung her hands, frowning at them as she faced her fears. He'd acted the same strange way before he'd finally told her he was going to fight in the Satsuma Rebellion. The very thought that he might be going away for an extended amount of time (she dreaded that he might be gone for six months like during the Satsuma Rebellion), that he would be in an extremely dangerous situation once more (like his fight with the Battousai and Jin-e), and that…that other…even more mind consuming thought that he might die…that was the worse.

Breath Tokio, she told herself, he hadn't said anything about it yet so that meant it was probably weeks away. He wouldn't leave yet; he would be home a little later and she could ask him about it. Hm… She wondered how his little visit to the man who'd followed them was going.

* * *

Saito nearly groaned out loud in annoyance, this was really not at all what he'd been expecting. Hiroaki grinned at him, crossing his arms, a bemused smile craftily peeling across his features.

"Ah, Hajime-chan, so wonderful to have you visit me! How you been? I can readily say I'm surprised they let you back in Tokyo after that incident with the Hatamoto."

His right eye twitched, "-chan is inappropriate, Hiroaki-san."

"Pfff. How's life? Was that lady your wife? I must say she has a pretty charm about her and she has the most perfect butt I've ever seen. Even more perfectly crafted then my wife's."

"Pervert," he wasn't sure if he should be possessively angry or gloating about Tokio. To kick Hiroaki's teeth in or to wound his pride with a scathing deduction? Oh the choices… "I suppose being better then your wife in the looks department isn't hard to accomplish, Hiroaki-san."

"Oh, funny little shit," Hiroaki looked amused. "You're one to talk about looks, you ain't a handsome fellow."

"Speak for yourself, mutt."

"If I'm a dog you're a snake. Dogs make loyal friendly companions, but snakes will strike in an instant."

"Humph. Why were you following me?"

"Huh…oh that," he, rubbed the back of his head. "I wouldn't say I was following you, Hajime-chan. I saw you in the market place in Itabashi Ward. I couldn't believe it was you so I followed you and sure enough there was my little brother. All grown up and with his own family too."

He almost rolled his eyes as Hiroaki laughed. Hiroaki's annoyingly amiable manners rubbed his antisocial stoical nature the wrong way. It was part of the reason he had barely managed to live with Hiroaki in this teenage years.

"You know I should be insulted."

"Why's that?"

"It was you and Katsu-san who so forcefully begged Yusuke-sama to kick me out remember? All that ranting about me being a crazy trouble making killer?"

Hiroaki's smile dimmed slightly and for the first time Saito noticed the wrinkles on his brow and the beginning of gray in his hair. Hiroaki was only a year older then him, how the heck did he have gray hair starting when he was only thirty six?

"Oi, you noticed my hair, eh?" He remarked when he saw where Saito was looking, "It's been there for about four years. Katsu-chan was sick for a while and I visited her often. My hair didn't start turning gray until after her death in 1875…"

Saito swallowed. Katsu was dead? He calculated the math in his head, frowning when he realize she would have only been thirty three when she'd died. Tokio was that age. He instantly tensed, there roles could have been reversed. He pushed the gloomy thought away.

Katsu. He remembered her only vaguely after all these years. Tall, that was a genetic trait from their father's side (or a deflect as Katsu had complained when men didn't want to court a woman taller then them), long black haired that she'd always said was her best quality and which all the Yamaguchi children had inherited from their mother (Yusuke'd had brown hair), and the same slim gold eyes he had. Hiroaki had gotten their mother's plain light brown eyes and not the amber of his other family members. Of course Hiroaki also had their mother's more docile, friendly personality while it seemed those cursed with their amber eyes were born grouchy.

He remembered fighting with her a lot, she'd been an immature, selfish youth and he'd been a stubborn give-no-ground-ever type. Katsu had loved pushing his buttons, he remembered, and their fights had always ended in verbal cursing.

Their mother had always tried her best to mediate between the two, particularly when he'd beaten up Katsu's only suitor in a fit of rage when the man had made an offhand joke about Katsu's feminine body. Being a possessive protective person by nature he hadn't taken kindly to such compliments, no matter how teasingly said, and had made sure it bore no repeating by beating the man black and blue. Katsu had nearly scratched his eyes out when she'd heard, fearing that he'd ruined her only chance at happiness. She hadn't forgiven him for weeks after wards and the only thing he'd said about it when prompted by Yusuke was that if the idiot loved Katsu he'd come back and if not she was better off. Hiroaki had made a comment about him being scarier then the grim reaper and the man had never returned.

He frowned at his moody thoughts. Katsu had been a good sister despite their quarrels and her hand in helping kick him out. He wouldn't have needed much prompting to leave anyway, he understood the necessity of protecting his loved ones', but as a youth his siblings' forceful insistence had stung even though he'd acknowledge the validity of it.

"Hiroaki-san?"

"Hm?"

"Did she die peacefully?" It was the least he could hope for. Katsu as big of a pain as she'd been in his youth deserved a painless death.

"Calmly in her sleep, never even stirred."

"That's good."

"Haji-chan?"

He felt annoyance but allowed it, grunting out, "What?"

"Katsu-chan always wondered what happened to you, ya know. We…well…we…" He ran a hand through his hair, "Apologizing isn't a Yamaguchi specialty. What I mean is well…Katsu and I…we didn't want you to go, ya know?"

Hiroaki was nervous as all hell, he never said 'ya know' and 'well' so many times in one sentence unless he was. Thoroughly enjoying Hiroaki's apology he asked the man if he could repeat himself under the pretense that he couldn't make out what he'd said with all his stammering.

"Screw you, Haji-chan!"

"Chichi?" A little girl appeared in the doorway to Hiroaki's house, her pig tails bobbing up and down as she ran down the steps and into Hiroaki's arms. "Me and Kachan made paper birds! Just like the ones in the sky," she spread her arms out in imitation of the creatures, laughing.

He raised a brow; the girl looked a little bit too old to be all over her father and using Chichi and Kachan instead of Otosan and Okasan. Tsutomu had never called him Chichi or even Otosan, it was always snake head or scary man. He frowned at that, why did Tsutomu address Tokio as Kachan but not him as Otosan? He'd have to talk to his son to figure that out. It had never bothered him and he hadn't really thought much of it until now.

Then she saw him and screamed. He pressed a hand to his temple, glaring. She opened her mouth to shriek again but Hiroaki stopped her by covering her mouth with his hand. "Be good, Yukiko. Sorry, Hajime-chan. She's only nine and doesn't have any manners yet."

"Only nine? My son is three and he doesn't even call me such a childish name. You should have weaned her better, Hiro-san, but you still have time. Once they get pass ten there is no saving them."

"Hahaha! My Yukiko-chan is my pride and joy," Hiroaki grinned at the girl and she pecked his cheek at his praise. Saito shook his head, Hiroaki spoiled his child with too much affection.

"I don't have time to idle, Hiroaki-san."

"Well goodbye to you too, jerk face."

"Humph," he turned to leave, but Hiroaki grabbed his sleeve. "I'm not staying for dinner. Tokio-san was making soba at home."

"Jeez you even call your wife -san huh? Doesn't surprise me one bit. Not the reason I stopped you though," Hiroaki added, noticing the annoyed looking creeping onto his face. "Why don't you come over some other time, eh? I don't mean tomorrow or anything, but…well…we're brothers, Haji-chan, it's kinda nice seeing you again."

He regarded his elder brother silently, yanking his arm out of Hiroaki's hold he stepped away. He took out a cigarette and lit it, watching Hiroaki's annoyed features and Yukiko's disgusted face as she pressed her kimono sleeve to her face. He smirked, letting out a drag, "I'll think about it. Tsutomu, my son, might like a companion that's family. Tokio says he likes to play with the other children around where we live."

"Where do you live?"

"Bunkyo Ward."

"Oh you're just over the way then. What were you doing all the way in Itabashi Ward?"

"Nagakura-san, a…" should he say friend? That sounded weird, "an old ally of mine built a shrine in Itabashi. He's visiting from Hokkaido," he pulled on his cigarette, loving the nerve easing cigarette to death. He found he tended to chain smoke when around his siblings. "Actually I do believe he's heading back in two days. What were you doing there, besides stalking me?"

"Pfff as if I'd waste my time stalking you, Haji-chan," he had a feeling Hiroaki called him that just to get at him. "I was visiting a friend."

"I'm leaving now," he took a drag.

"Come back."

"Maybe," he threw the cigarette to the ground and stumped on it for good measure. "Oh and Hiroaki-san," he didn't turn around but he knew the other man was listening to him. "You shouldn't be begging for forgiveness for you and Katsu-san. I killed an evil man who deserved what he got and I took the consequences. Do not blame yourself."

"Hajime…"

"Goro Fujita now," he smiled back at his brother over his shoulder before walking down the street and taking the quickest route home. He was sure his soba was cold by now.

Tokio was just about to clean up the soba when Saito appeared in the living area. "You're home. How was it?"

"Not horrible. I'll eat that."

"Let me heat it up."

"Cold soba is fine."

"I'm heating it up," she disappeared into the kitchen. A second later she came out and set the bowl full of steaming soba down. He began digging in and she went back to her sewing. She pricked her finger when a commotion outside startled her. Nagakura came inside the living room and she scanned his tabi encased feet with approval, he knew better from last time not to walk in with his dirty sandals on.

"Good evening, Nagakura-san. What brings you here?"

"Ai, Fujita-sama," he bowed at her and from her sitting position she inclined her head. "I'm just here to ask your husband how it went with the weirdo."

"Weirdo indeed," Saito agreed for once with Nagakura. "It was nothing troubling. Just Hiroaki-san."

"Who?" It took a second before realization crossed Tokio's face. Nagakura glanced at her, "You know this Hiroaki-san, Fujita-sama?"

"He's…eh…Saito-san's elder brother."

"Huh? You're not pulling my leg?"

"Why would we want to touch you, Shinpachi?"

The said man glared, "Ass. So you got a brother. I never would've guessed. You were probably a torment to the man."

"Humph."

"Did you see your sister too," Tokio asked.

"Katsu-san died in 1875."

Silence for a second before, "You had a sister and brother?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Almost as much as the fact that you reproduced and that such a lovely lady like Tokio-san married your ass willingly. You sure you didn't point your sword at her?"

"Are we talking about my katana?"

"What other sword….never mind, pervert!"

He laughed maliciously, Nagakura was dirty minded and he hadn't said anything inappropriate. He slurped his soba, grinning, aw good soba, good wife, pretty good kid when he wanted to be, and he got to kill people on his days off. Life was damn good in his book. A lot better then it had been years prior. He was happy, he realized, not just content like he'd been before. Hm…oh right he still had to tell Tokio about the Shishio thing. Oh another time…Shit…

* * *

Japanese words for this chapter:

Chichi-only used on your own father, like saying papa

Kanda Matsuri-festival in Tokyo that started in sixteenth century to celebrate the Tokugawa Ieyasu's victory at the battle of Sekigahara, is on the Saturday or Sunday closest to May fifteenth.

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More of a note then anything:

Wards in Japan: Sections of Tokyo. Bunkyo Ward where Tokio and Saito live has a lot of educational institutions while Chiyudo Ward where Hiroaki lives is government and store orientated. Itabashi is on the other side of Tokyo while Chiyudo and Bunkyo Wards are right next to each other. You can easily find a map if you want to on the internet.

Note about People Ages:

Until the Meiji era, people counted their age by a different system than the one used in western countries. In the Edo period a person was considered to be a year old on the day they were born. On the very first day of the next year, even if it were only a month away, everyone was automatically considered to be a year older. So Hijikata would have given his age on the day he died as 35 and he would have considered himself to have been that age since the first day of 1869. However according to the western way of calculating age, he had only turned 34 a month before. So technically speaking everyone would have given their ages as a year higher then we'd think. For example, back in 1866 Saito would have said he was 23 instead of the western 22, but since the Meiji era he'd probably be giving his age without the added year. For all intended purposes and not to confuse anyone I'm going by the 35 and not 36. I just thought this would be an interesting note to include.


	39. Chapter 39: Tokyo, 1878, Part 6

Tokio pushed the futon covers aside, crawling into the warmth of the blankets and away from the steely chill in the air. Aw…almost as warm as his body. Almost. She sighed, holding the blankets tightly around her, trying fruitlessly to seep the warmth into her veins.

Hajime was working late tonight. He wouldn't be back until late he'd said and late usually meant well past three in the morning. He also got back before the light touched the sky however.

Tsutomu was snoring, filling the room with noise. It had taken her some getting use to after the mostly silent room before his birth, but his snoring had grown on her and lulled her to sleep most nights. She'd wondered on more then one occasion if Hajime snored just as loudly, but she'd never stayed awake longer then him when he did come home. Usually she fell fast asleep after his body joined hers in the futon and she'd never woken up earlier then him even once in their marriage.

Sometimes she didn't think he slept at night, even though his body didn't leave the futon. What did he think about in the dark of the night with the quiet all around? She remembered the occasional times she'd awoken and found him sitting up smoking. When he was out of the futon he was thinking of the Shinsengumi that much she knew by now. She just wondered what he thought about when he laid beside her sleeping form and neither touched her nor moved.

She was brought from her moody thoughts when she heard the shoji leading into the house open. She jumped to her feet as silently as possible, hearing someone out in the living area. Was Hajime home? No. He'd told her he'd be working all night. So who was out there?

The footsteps, moving about lightly as if not wanting to awake the inhabitants, went into one of the other rooms. Either the person had gone into Ryoko's room, the kitchen, the toilet room, or the bathhouse. She'd kill her brother if he was sneaking in to see Ryoko. There was only so much she could put up with and her brother taking Ryoko's virginity in her house was not something she'd tolerate. If they were getting married they could wait damn it.

She crept as silently as possible into the living area, keeping her body close to the floor. She picked up the wakizashi from the alcove. If it was Morinosuke she'd scare him silly before kicking him out. If it was someone trying to steal something she's fight that person. There was no way she was letting someone get away with stealing from her house.

She positioned herself in front of the door to the kitchen where the person was fussing around. She heard the faint clicking of pots and a soft curse from an annoyed male voice. She couldn't make out if it was Morinosuke's voice, the half mumbled words were too faint for her hearing. Why would her brother be in the kitchen if his destination was Ryoko's room? Saito would have said her brother had just gotten lost in the dark, like the idiot he was. She was fairly certain her brother wasn't that stupid, he'd been in their house enough times to know the direction of the Ryoko's room from that of the kitchen. So it was a thief trying to steal her pans? That made about no sense either.

She tensed as the footsteps reached the shoji and the person opened the door. She held the wakizashi up, toward where the man's throat should have been. Only he was taller then she'd expected him to be, she'd expected an average Japanese's male height, not the 6 foot giant in front of her.

Her husband quirked an eyebrow, "What are you doing up?"

"Oh, I thought there was an intruder."

He snorted, pushing the point of the wakizashi away from his chest with amusement. "Silly Tokio."

"Well, I'm sorry you didn't give me any reason to think otherwise. What are you doing cooking at this time of night?" Saito's normal routine on getting off work was too stock up on cigarettes if he was low and then stop at a soba restaurant before coming home and getting a few winks if he was lucky. He never came home and made a ruckus because he knew it would wake the household.

He shifted his weight slightly, taking out his cigarettes. He flicked out a stick, shoved it in his mouth, put the pack back into his breast pocket, and fletched his matches with the hand that had held the package a moment before. He stuck the match and lit the cigarette, inhaling as she watched him with mild confusion through the growing cloud of smoke. He put the matches away before shrugging, "I was making some tea."

"I see." His answer was bizarre though. It made perfect sense really so there was no reason to doubt the logic, but something was off about her husband. Then she saw his wrist because of his sudden movement of rolling the cigarette between his fingers. His fingers were tensely moving the cigarette around, jolting the flaming lit stick from one joint to the next. She frowned, recalling he'd done a similar thing back when he'd proposed. Was he nervous? Hajime Saito, Third Unit Captain of the Shinsengumi Wolves of Mibu, was nervous. The very same man who'd not even flinched as he faced off with the legendary Battousai was nervous about something. No doubt it was something minor too, knowing her husband.

"Hajime koishii," she sheathed the heavy feeling wakizashi. She put the wakizashi back by the alcove as she asked her next question, "Are you lying to me?"

"What? No," he looked annoyed, taking a quick drag of his cigarette when he'd normally take a slow savoring drag. He was lying. It was right there in his eyes.

If there was one thing she knew about her husband it was that he was a tremendously good lair expect when it came to lying to her. She had found that out by the sheer fact that he lied easily to other people when he felt it was necessity, but the one time he'd tried a white lie on her she'd nearly sworn he'd been kicked in the groin or like someone had taken his arm and bent it backward. He'd given in and told her the truth not five minutes later. She'd always felt amazingly happy that he trusted and loved her enough to be so honest with her, it was a big deal if her husband was willing to tell her all he had over the years. However his sudden lying right now seemed completely out of character for him.

"What's in the kitchen," she demanded, crossing her arms, not liking one bit that he was being secretive.

"Nothing."

"Hajime…?"

"Tokio…?"

"Hajime...?"

"Tokio…?"

"I can play this game longer then you can, husband."

"No you can't."

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. "Oh yes I can." She pushed at his frame blocking the whole doorway, but he didn't move even a little. "Hajime, just tell me!"

"You're starting to get flustered. The color in your checks is quite becoming, wife. I might just have to go ravage you."

"I am not in the mood for this right now. I have school in the morning."

"Then let's go to sleep and end this foolishness."

"But…"

"No buts. Come," he grabbed her arm and effortlessly dragged her away, shutting the shoji to the kitchen before crossing the room and going into their sleeping quarters. He dispensed her on the futon and began undressing.

"I thought you had work all night. Did Uramura-san let you off early?"

"Yes." Finally some semblance of normalcy, he was telling the truth.

"That's surprising."

"Not so. Okubo-san has hired me for an indefinite amount of time and the Department of the Interior has made sure Uramura-san keeps my disappearance from the station a secret. Every one at the police station thinks I've taken a leave of absence for personal reasons. A sick family member in Kyoto actually."

"What?" She wasn't prepared for this. There had been signs it was coming, but she hadn't expected tonight would be the night he'd tell her about his new assignment. She thought she had more time with him, his sudden declaration meant he'd only have a few days or less left with them. No…This felt wrong. Something was wrong, more wrong then his usually missions for Okubo.

"You said for an indefinite amount of time? How long?" Her voice wasn't as steady as she'd wanted it to be. Her fears started to mount at the sober expression on his face, the sharp gleam in his eyes, and the almost dead quiet of the room. Tsutomu's snoring was the only sound she immediately picked up besides their breathing. A long time was the unspoken meaning behind his silence because if he was thinking about how long it might take then that meant more than his usual week or less.

"How long," he muttered, "no idea. No more then a month if things go good I should think, but it might become prolonged depending on the situation."

"Not as long as the Satsuma Rebellion…"

"I don't think it will take six months, Tokio."

"Good. When do you leave?"

He pushed down his trousers until the fabric clustered around his ankles. His jacket already neatly folded on the floor he deftly flung his shirt off and began folding it. She tried not to stare at his muscles, or the sweat trickling down the side of his stomach, or the scars littering his body with white marks. She looked instead at his head, dark hair that she loved to clutch at when they…stop thinking. She had to concentrate, letting his desirable body distract her right now was not a priority…she just wished he didn't look so damn good all the time.

"When do you go? Don't make me ask a third time."

"May fourteenth," he grumbled as he pulled his feet out of his trousers. May fourteenth…what? Tomorrow!

"Tomorrow."

"Yes." Breathe Tokio, remember what that was. Why the hell had he waited so long to tell her?

"And you're only telling me now?" She heard the hard edge in her voice and was sure he heard it always, though he made no indicate that he did.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, "I figured it was best not to worry you and I wasn't quite sure how to tell you. Come here," he grabbed her about the waist, pulling her over to the futon. She sighed, collapsing in his firm protective hold on the futon. One hand was busy loosing her obi.

"Hajime you're an asshole, you know that?"

He snorted, mirth in his voice for the first time that evening, "So everyone tells me, particularly that idiot brother of yours."

"Hm," that comment reminded her that her husband had a brother also. "When you get back from wherever it is your going, koishii, can we have dinner at Hiroaki-san's?"

His hand on her obi paused, "What?"

"Dinner at Hiroaki-san's?"

"I heard you, I was just in disbelief. You don't know my brother, Tokio, he's nuts."

"Crazier than you?"

"Much. Actually he's beyond crazy. He's indescribably freakish."

"Oh so eloquently put, Wolf." She slipped off her obi seeing as he was too distracted to finish the task himself. She saddled his hips, moving her hands to his chest. His eyes glowed passionately in the dark as he removed her nemaki abet roughly. His lips where on her neck before she had time to do anything herself. She moaned, "You really should have told me."

His lips nicked her neck affectionately, the movement of his head causing his bangs to trickle her neck. "Forgiveness is a virtue―."

"I don't process." She finished for him, one hand grabbed his bangs and yanking hard. He let out a yelp that reminded her of a Wolf getting ticks in his hair. She flicked her tongue against his cheek to annoy him and smiled.

"I was about to say forgiveness is a virtue you process in abundance, but I'm certainly reconsidering that after you yanked on my hair. I can't believe you just did that," his voice dropped lower, almost a Wolfish growl by the end. He tugged on her braid, yanking her head back he began sucking at her neck. She groaned, knowing that in the morning he'd at least leave beyond marks of his love.

She stared at her image in the mirror like a self-satisfied kitten. Dark marks along her neck, on her breasts, and along the slope of her shoulders. Saito was dressing in the dark of early morning, he'd be leaving in an hour or so. She glanced at him over her shoulder, taking in the marks trailing his collarbone, neck, and shoulders. She grinned, she'd given him a good run for his money last night.

"I do believe I gave you more marks last night, koishii."

He buckled his belt, turning his back to her to find his shirt she wondered if he was rolling his eyes. "Get dressed Tokio," he grumbled, finding his shirt and throwing it on. She sighed, withdrawing from the mirror. His marks would only linger for a little while after he left, hopefully for three weeks but she wasn't holding too much stock in that.

She glanced at her clothing. A thin yukata would be nice in the warm weather. She picked out a magenta color before Saito appeared behind her and reached into her clothing. He handed her a blue-gray yukata and put the magenta one back, kissing her neck swiftly before withdrawing. She blinked in confusion before shrugging at his strange behavior. What was wrong with the magenta one?

"You don't like the color," she asked when she turned around to face him, dressed in the yukata he'd chosen with a sea green obi.

"The color doesn't suit you."

"Hm, but this bluish color does?"

"Yes. When you're sad you're like the drab rain that falls from the sky you like so much." She blinked before smiling at the compliment. "And there is the silver lining," he said teasingly. She slide her arms around his waist, laughing she buried her head into his back. He pushed the last button of his jacket into the loop, smoothing out the wrinkled fabric.

"Why can't you be in such a good mood all the time," she asked his back, her face pressed to the stiff clothe of his police uniform.

"Because I'm not with you all the time and alone. Usually your brother or Hiroshi-san annoy the hell out of me. Tokio," he didn't have much time, "Go into the kitchen and warm up some tea."

"Are you hungry? I could make some soba before you go."

"No, just go into the kitchen," he stopped her suddenly when she made to go and pulled her close. His lips kissed her fiercely, his tongue lightly skimming her bottom lip before sneaking inside pass her weak defenses. She cheered inwardly, he rarely used his tongue when he kissed her expect when he was really happy. She went to move closer to him, but he released her wrist at that moment. Giving her a smirk he turned her around by the shoulders and she obediently let him. A hand whacked her butt playfully before she went into the living room. She was humming happily as she went to the kitchen, what a terrifically good mood her husband was in today. He's leaving, her cheerful mood dimmed slightly, but she refused to be me melancholy while he was here. He hadn't left yet so she could be joyful until he did.

She nearly had a heart attack when she saw something moving in the kitchen. She squawked out loud as the thing under the pan moved it. A brushy tail twitched and a head appeared. She went reluctantly over to the pan and picked it up. Underneath the pan, staring at her with large eyes was an Akita.

"Aw!" There was laughing behind her, she picked the puppy up, and turned to face her amused husband. She smiled, "You brought me an Akita!"

He shrugged, "I thought you'd like company while I'm away and Tsutomu might like a companion who's about his size."

She went over and kissed him, the Akita started to struggle in her grasp. She set him down, "We should name him," she said suddenly. "Wait I'll wake Tsutomu and let him decide."

"Must you wake up the whole neighborhood just to name an animal?"

"Yes," she hollered over her shoulder as she went to wake their son. He snorted, she hadn't been this excitable since Tsutomu's birth so maybe the dog was a bad idea. He glanced down at the Akita who just looked up at him with big light brown eyes. Oh hell…

"Akita! Akita! Akita," Tsutomu's voice said as he came into the room with his mother.

"What should we name him? It is a male, right?"

Saito nodded his head in yes, pulling out a cigarette. He nearly dropped the cigarette when Tsutomu yelled, "Hachiko!"

* * *

I suppose Saito buying a dog is a little...out of character...but oh well. R&R please.

More of a note then anything:

Hachiko is a famous Akita in Japan who was remembered for his loyalty to his master even after his death. He apparently waited for his master at Shibuya Station near their house every day while he was alive and then after his master died he still went to the train station until his death in 1935. Yes I'm aware that this story takes place before Hachiko was born, but Hachiko is a fairly common Japanese name so I figured Tsutomu might name him that. I just thought Hachiko was a good dog name after I found the inspiring story on the internet.


	40. Chapter 40: Tokyo, 1878, Part 7

Yeah fast update! I pretty much had this whole scene written when I update the last chapter. Hurray chapter forty! Wonders how much longer this will go on? Hm...hehehehe. R&R please, thanks for the reviews.

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"Eiji," he snapped stopping in front of a soba establishment. "Let's get something to eat before we head to my home." Eiji nodded his head. They entered the restaurant and Saito ordered a private room. He had things to discus with Eiji that didn't need to be overhead. He settled down in seiza before the table watching Eiji set his brother's sword down beside him before sitting also.

"How may I help you two gentlemen?"

Eiji shrugged his shoulders at the waitress and Saito took it upon himself to answer, "Two hot bowls of soba. Plain please."

"Tea?"

He glanced at Eiji's blank look and said, "One green and one oolong."

"Thank you and it'll be right out."

Eiji's silence during their travel from Shingetsu Village to Tokyo had been a relief to him. He was antisocial and he liked it that way so only having to talk the bare minimal was a luxury. He could understand the boy's need for silence, it would be better that he think through the past inside his own mind, come to conclusions, and eventually move on. He had just lost his family so it was understandable that he'd be angry, sad, or distressed.

In the quiet he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He watched Eiji; the boy was sitting with his head down and his eyes intently peering at his hands. He wasn't sure if the boy was really aware of what he was looking at or if he was too preoccupied to notice. He coughed into his hand and watched the boy jump in surprise. His head flew up and he was given a shocked look. The shock melted after a moment into a subdued expression. "Yes, Saito-san?"

"I need to lay down some rules. You'll be living with Tokio-san and she's too kind to be strict so I'm going to make sure you know you're place before I take you there. I might be gone fighting Shishio, but that doesn't mean I expect disobedience while I'm away. Tokio might let a few things go, but I will discipline you when I get back. Are we clear on this matter?" The child nodded his head and he took a drag saying, "A vocal response please."

"Yes, Saito-san."

"Good." The soba and tea arrived then and he halted his instructions for the moment to eat. He watched Eiji prod his soba with his chopsticks, taking a bite every so often. "Do you not like soba? Or are you not hungry?"

Eiji blinked at him, "I'm hungry and soba's eatable."

"Then eat and stop your fussing over it. Sorrow shouldn't keep you from living and part of living is eating so eat before I shove it down your throat." He could only deal with stupidity for so long and sorrow tended to make people even stupider then they usually were.

Eiji winced at the threat, twisting some noodles around his chopsticks. He ate it, his eyes watching him for approval. He nodded in acceptance. He made sure the boy drank at least half of his tea and ate most of the soba. After all the boy probably hadn't eaten much before they'd taken off from Shingetsu Village and he hadn't bothered stopping at a restaurant on the way here.

"About the rules they are fairly self explanatory and should broke no arguments. I won't fight with you about their necessity; I expect simply that they be obeyed. But should you really need to ask something relating to the rules your questions will be directed to me and not my wife. Your first rule is no girls," he stopped frowning. Maybe Eiji was a little young for that yet. The boy couldn't have been older then eleven, twelve, or thirteen right? "Scratch that one off I suppose. First rule then is no friends over past 6:00 pm. I won't hear any complains about that one, Ryoko-san and Tokio-san chewed my ear off for that one several times."

"Ryoko-san?"

"Tokio works as a housemaster at the Woman's Higher Normal School. Ryoko-san is living with us until…wait…its July right?" Eiji nodded his head. "Well she was staying with us, but she married Tokio-san's brother Morinosuke. I guess I missed the wedding," he hadn't really wanted to be there anyway. Hm… "So that gives you a whole room to yourself. Actually Tsutomu may want to share your room."

"Tsutomu-san?"

"My son."

Eiji's eyes went wide, "You have children?"

"Just a son. He's three. I figure he's old enough now to leave our room and stay with you in yours. No arguing."

He was mildly surprised when Eiji didn't fight him on any of his restrictions. Even the one about going over to friends' houses without permission didn't faze him. Of course it shouldn't. He had no friends yet. He'd better remember this when he got some or else there would be hell to pay, he mused, finishing off his tea.

He paid the bill and they left. Eiji kept Eiichiro Mishima's sword close as they walked. They were given wide breath by the citizenry, but that didn't surprise or worry him much. He was use to space because a) he was a swordsman police officer and b) he was kind of what you'd call scary. Of course everyone seemed to figure that since the kid was with a police officer he had a license to carry a sword. Hm… He'd have to make sure Eiji didn't carry that thing around town. It would be fine if he kept it at their house in his room, but there was no way he was going to be allowed to use that rusty piece of junk on even a tree trunk behind the house. Boys liked to hack at things or so he had when he'd been little.

The walk to Bunkyo Ward was mostly silent. Him preoccupied with his cigarette as Eiji glanced around Tokyo in wonderment. He guessed the kid had never gotten outside of Shingetsu Village. Thinking of Tokyo reminded him of the Tokio he knew. Aw his wife…she was going to kill him when he showed up with Eiji and then took off again.

He felt the kid following him as he walked up to the house. He put out his cigarette before going inside. Both slid off their sandals and disposed of them for now in the getabako. He went into the living area and found Tokio and Tsutomu. Their son lay on his back, Tokio leaning over him. He raised an eyebrow at the scene before him. Was Tokio really tickling Tsutomu? Lucky kid.

"Tokio," she raised her head when she heard her name.

Her laughing subsided as she stopped tickling Tsutomu, but her smile remained plastered on. "Goro you're home."

"Yes."

"Snake head," Tsutomu got up from his sprawled mess and waddled over. The boy grabbed onto his pant leg and tugged. He knelt down to Tsutomu's level. Even kneeling he still towered over his son's small build. He wondered if his son would have his height when he matured.

His child looked more like his mother every day. His eyes her brown, his smile her gentle welcoming one, and even his chin was hers. He supposed Tsutomu was lucky he hadn't inherited any of his features, he wasn't exactly handsome despite what Tokio said about liking his looks. Of course Tokio always claimed Tsutomu had his ears, but he wasn't really sure how one could tell that. He thought all ears looked the same, size the only real indictor between ears in his mind.

"Get off, Tsutomu. Your mother and I must talk."

"I missed you snake head," the boy hugged him. He stared at his son's head. Should he say something? Maybe about how he'd missed him too? He'd missed just being home, the smell of Tokio baking and the sounds of Tsutomu playing by himself or with Ryoko or Morinosuke who often visited. Heck he hadn't expected to miss the little boy quite as much as he had. Missing Tokio was pretty much a given and so it seemed was Tsutomu now…

He'd missed how his son had climbed on him and Tokio to wake them in the morning, usually yelling snake head and kachan right in their ears. He hadn't expected to miss something that annoyed him so much when it happened. He missed how Tsutomu always seemed to make a complete mess with his food, no matter the substance, and how Tokio always cleaned it up without much fuss. His wife was taciturn if nothing else. He even missed how his son forgot to brush his hair in the morning and he'd always march Tsutomu back into their room and brush his hair for him, making sure it was done right and laying flat.

He inwardly grimaced, he was so soft hearted now. Hijikata had been right when he'd limited the number of married men in the Shinsengumi and had targeted the single men for recruitment instead. Wise idea, he mused, and he saw the necessity of that action even more clearly now that he had his own family. He felt he fought harder now that he had something to cling too, something to protect that wasn't just the intangible Kyoto, and he liked to think his family gave him a reason to be more vicious in battle.

Not that he'd ever give up Aku Soku Zan should any of his family ask him too, though he might hold a grudge against the family member(s) who asked for about the next decade. He was gratefully Tokio had never openly argued with him about his motto because holding a grudge meant no 'futon time' for the next decade and that was an unbearable thought.

He pressed a hand to his son's head, "I missed you too. Now the adults have to talk. Stay in here with," for a second he wasn't sure what the proper suffix should be. Eiji was a bit too old for -chan perhaps and he'd feel weird if he just started calling him -chan when he wasn't family (he didn't use -chan on anyone, not even Tsutomu). -Kun would be more appropriate, but he'd still feel odd using it on Eiji. -San seemed like an alright idea only it would be a little strange to use it on a child. Damn…This was complicated.

"Eiji," he declared after a moment of struggling. He felt slightly awkward, which was a feeling he didn't experience often, after saying his name without anything, but everyone else seemed fine with it. Eiji didn't seem to even notice he'd said his name and Tokio didn't seem taken aback with his lack of honorific.

"Who Eiji?"

"Use proper grammar, Tsutomu. You should have said, "Whose Eiji?" It had taken them forever to get Tsutomu to use sentences instead of just yelling the same word over and over again and he still didn't speak properly. He'd be damned if he allowed his son to talk like an idiot in public, no matter that the boy had just turned three in February. "Eiji," he pointed to the lanky youth, "will watch you while Tokio and I talk. Come along," he said to his wife. She followed him into their room.

"Goro," he grabbed her wrist just after the shoji slammed into its frame and pulled her closer. He kissed her across the mouth, relishing in the warmth of her body as it molded to his. He moved his lips down from her mouth to her jaw. Aw his gorgeous wife, he'd never tire of her.

He'd missed her something awful while he'd been away, though he'd be damned before he'd ever confess such a weak feeling to any one besides Tokio. He wasn't averse to expressing his feelings, far from it actually, he had in fact told Tokio that he loved her and had on more then one occasion told her he'd missed her when he went away.

Of course admitting your feelings all the time was a womanly affliction and he felt it was alright to speak your feelings every so often, but not constantly. His wife just happened to be one of those women who thank kami knew not to ask him his feelings every day. His emotions didn't change so drastically every day and he'd be damned if they ever started to.

"I do believe it's a little early for…well…those kinds of things. Besides Eiji-chan and Tsu-chan are just out there. They might hear."

He smirked, amused at the dirty train of thought his wife's mind had taken. He hadn't even considered ravaging her before he left again. He'd figured he'd explain Eiji's situation and make sure she was fine watching him while he went back to dealing with Shishio. Of course what was a little hour…or two delay in the big scheme of things?

His mind started going through all the things he could do to Tokio with an hour and two hours was more then sufficient to slate his lust…but…what if the Battousai ended up dealing with Shishio while he was delayed because of his stay in Tokyo? Not that being in Tokyo with Tokio in a futon was unpleasant, but after all the hassle Shishio had put him through and the pain he'd caused others he really deserved to be torn to pieces. He wanted the pleasure of being the man's executioner, though he wouldn't have minded handing the job over to the Battousai if the man had withdrawn his oath, but it seemed the Battousai wasn't going to revert back into his killing ways. A real pity that.

Though he wouldn't have ever told Shishio this he wasn't wholly against his ideology. The weak die and the strong survive. It was a simple idea. He had seen plenty of it in life. Weak or strong both could become corrupt, of that he'd seen many times. Shengetsu Village was a fine example of weaklings gone corrupt and Shishio was a fine example of the strong turned evil. He found nothing wrong with protecting the weak like the Battousai did, it was only that the Battousai protected weaklings that deserved not to have that honor. He could understand protecting the Kamiya girl, he protected Tokio after all, but he couldn't understand protecting idiots like Shibumi and the like.

In his mind people fell under two categories. Good and evil. He let a little gray in just to be fair and realistic, all humans made mistakes himself included, so he gave a little leeway for the human dysfunction. He didn't kill thieves, muggers, or rapists though he considered it many times, he merely arrested them and gave them the chance to change. The men he did kill were always the worse of the scum, like the bottom ring of hell, those who neither wanted redemption nor would have accepted it had it been offered. Like Shishio, like Shibumi (the man would have just kept up his assassin ring if he hadn't ended his pitiful existence), like Kamo Serizawa of the Shinsengumi. There were many more vile men like those.

He sighed, realizing Tokio had starting kissing his jaw and working off his buttons. Shit… He'd noticed her untying her obi, but his thoughts had taken him astray. Despite her little protestations earlier she seemed to be just as eager as he was. He smiled, his silly wife who blushed at even the vaguest mention of sexual innuendo in public wasn't even close to a virgin. Well actually she blushed at innuendo even in their room…but she was more then willing to do things.

"Tokio," he stopped her hands, "not now."

She pouted, dear kami help him. She always got him when she pouted, she was just too irresistible when she blinked her puppy dog eyes at him and pressed her full womanly curves right into him. Aw hell and he'd prided himself in never succumbing to that dreaded look…he was going to stay firm. His resolve started to shatter when her lips meet his ear.

"Stop," he pushed her away, stepping away from her he tried to clear his thoughts.

"What's wrong," she asked, picking up on the fact that now wasn't the most ideal time.

"Eiji."

"What about him?"

"Sit," after getting a warm cup of tea and a nice cigarette lit he began telling her about what had happened. He told her about Shingetsu Village and the mansion, but didn't tell her it was the Battousai he was working with and instead used his last name. If he mentioned to Tokio that he was currently working alongside a man who'd injured him and tried to kill him he was sure she'd refuse to let him out of the room.

It almost hurt his throat to say Hiruma after always using Battousai. He was just glad no one like Zanza was here to tease him about it because if he knew the rooster head well enough he undoubtedly would mention it every time they met, so it was good that he was nowhere in sight. Where was that moron anyway? Had he gone on to Kyoto even after his beating? Pfff knowing that idiot probably.

"Huh…" She looked surprised.

"What?"

"Two things actually."

"And they would be?"

"I'm really glad you mentioned me," she smiled.

"I didn't want to. I don't trust Hiruma-san," he almost winced while saying it, but somehow managed to stay stoical, "or weasel girl as far as I can throw them. However there was nothing else I could do. I couldn't in good conscious leave Eiji with anyone else, particularly those two or Hiruma-san's friends. Kami help Eiji if he'd been left in their care."

"Really though did you have to be so reluctant to mention me?"

"You were not the reason for my reluctance, Tokio, you're a nice pretty housewife who any man would be blessed to have," he smiled, "but―." The growling startled him into silence and his hand flew to his katana. "What the hell was that?"

"Hachiko," Tokio said unfazed, walking over to the entrance. Pushing the shoji open the Akita came bouncing into the room.

"I forgot about the dog," he mumbled as the Akita settled into Tokio's lap. "Is he behaving?"

"Good for a dog if that's what you're asking."

"The breeder I brought him from said Akita's make good house pets, loyal and good with children. Has he kept you company while I've been gone."

Tokio absently scratched the red Akita behind the ear, smiling, "Yes he's been a good lap warmer anyway. He's a real cutie and he's so friendly. I usually take him for walks in the afternoon. He does get bored easily though so I try to keep him entertained. Tsu-chan is always bugging him. Just last week he tried to ride Hachiko. I managed to convince him to wait until Hachiko is bigger."

Tokio continued ranting on about how the household had been while he'd been away, gushing in detail about Morinosuke and Ryoko's wedding, even telling him exactly what her hairstyle had been. He sighed, Tokio didn't usually talk his ear off with such trivial things, but he had a feeling this was a womanly bonding thing because she always did it when he got back. How to tell her his mission wasn't really over? He chewed this thought over as she told him about Ryoko's pregnancy.

His eyes went wide, "She's already with child?"

"Apparently. The baby's due around April or May."

"They just got married. Good reason I doubted that they'd wait for their wedding night."

"We were good about waiting."

He snorted, "It was only a few days. I wasn't going to jump you in an alleyway and have you for the first time there. Of course if our wedding had been prolonged though," he gave her a suggestive smirk. She laughed, blushing slightly, her hand trickling Hachiko's belly. "How come you never trickle me?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, "You're being really nasty today, Hajime. Really I don't think I can talk to you civilly when you haven't had sex in months. You're almost incoherent and only talk about sex."

"Like you're much better, woman."

"Just by looking at you I wouldn't think your mind was always on love making, but I guess the saying that you shouldn't always judge by outward appearances is true."

He sipped his tea, frowning suddenly, "Tokio."

She lifted her head from Hachiko and stared at him. Her face grew as sober as his, "What now?"

"My mission isn't finished. I came to give Eiji to you to care for while I'm away. I have to go end things with Shishio. He's a danger to our lives and the lives of everyone."

She inhaled slowly, the way she always did when she was processing something that was going to cause her a lot of pain. He waited feeling slightly impatient; she wouldn't look at him for a while, her gaze distantly staring at a scuff mark on her tatami mats. "Leave me more cigarettes this time."

He glared, "You're wasting my cigarettes. Can't you just have Hachiko and Tsutomu to help, you already took half a pack before I left."

"Please."

"Tokio, really this obsession with my cigarettes is unhealthy."

"As unhealthy as you smoking them. Just give me some."

"Wife―." He began but the sharp look as her eyes finally rested on his beat his authoritative tone sky high.

"I need something to remind me of you when I'm alone. I can't have Tsu-chan and Hachiko attached to my hip all the time. I need to reaffirm to myself that you're concrete, I need to know you exist in more then just my mind and heart."

She sounded strangely angry at having to admit this weakness in her character and he felt moved that she'd said it aloud. He'd known her reasons for taking his cigarettes, but it was pleasant to hear her admit it. He smiled softly as he moved closer to her, one arm going around her shoulder. Hachiko, annoyed at being disregarded for now, yelped for attention. Realizing he wasn't going to get any after a few moments he leaped out of Tokio's lap and went to find the more entertaining children.

"Tokio," he pulled her into his arms. It was moments like this that made his relationship with her all the more meaningful, sure everyday things were pleasant and helped build his appreciation for her, but it was right here in this moment as she confessed how hard it was for her to live without him that he fell in love with his fiery, silly Tokio all over again. "Ai shiteru, Sada-san, Tokio-san."

He could feel her smiling, "Thank you for everything, especially for being you. Ai shiteru, Hajime-san." Both recalled the first time he'd admitted his love for her. He laughed, kissing her across the mouth. Aw Tokio…how he loved his wife.


	41. Chapter 41: Tokyo, 1878, Part 8

He cursed, raising his cigarette to his cracked lips and taking a long drag. Aw hell…he was screwed. Screwed to hell and back again. Shishio was probably laughing at his situation in death and waiting until he joined him there.

He took another drag, examining his wounds as he tried to come up with a plan. Usui had given him three inconsequential nicks to his arms and legs and two more worrisome stabs to both legs. Shishio had slashed him across the chest, which hurt more then he'd say aloud, and punctuated him below the shoulder. His last wound was nagging him the most and bleeding the worst, but he'd dealt with worse during the Bakumatsu…right? He tried to remember a time when he'd been more beat up, but found only a few instances where he'd been this damaged and those fights were usually with Battousai or Shishio after he succeeded the wanderer.

He frowned, now that his evaluation was over how the heck was he going to get out of this? He wasn't sure his legs would support him right now. He tried to get to his feet, only to lean back against the wall again. He was surrounded by debris; in fact it was debris that kept him from escaping. The door that led to the outside world had three very large beams from the arena blocking his exit. Normally they wouldn't have posed even a little bit of a problem, expect his legs felt like they could barely keep him upright, much less perform a Gatotsu attack to destroy the wood.

He leaned his head against the wall, glaring up into the sky. Why oh why had he ended up on the wrong side of that blasted bridge? If he ever saw Hoji again he'd certainly castrate the bastard. What to do? He wasn't going to die here. No way in hell.

He squared his shoulders, he couldn't wait around. He was bleeding far too much; he could bleed to death if he didn't do something about the situation. He took another drag of his cigarette, letting the ash fall onto his pant leg. He closed his eyes, damn this tricky situation!

* * *

Tokio glanced at Eiji as she came outside. The sullen boy had his arms crossed as he watched Tsutomu, Hiroaki, and Yukiko playing a game. Tsutomu and Yukiko were being chased by Hiroaki. The children were yelling about Hiroaki being a monster or something.

"Eiji," she said as she sat down beside him. She'd quickly learned over the past month he'd been here that -chan and -kun caused him pain when she used them. She figured it had to do with his family using those affectionate terms so for Eiji's sake she refrained from doing so.

"Tokio-dono," he mumbled. He was the only person who'd ever called her by that honorific and she found she rather liked the suffix. When Eiji had first moved in he'd used -sama, but she'd informed him she preferred -san. Eventually they'd just settled into -dono when he'd used it once by chance. She supposed he felt like showing respect so she'd keep him around. He uncrossed his arms, planting his feet firmly into the soil as he stood.

"How was school today?" She asked, trying as usual to start a conversation with him. He rarely initiated conversations, but she'd withstood Saito's stoical nature and she could certainly withstand a grieving boy's sullen attitude. He was adjusting to life without his family and that weight of pain and anguish was probably building up in him, particularly since he had no one else to talk to it about.

She knew that even if he'd wanted to talk, which he didn't yet she could tell, he wouldn't have confided in her. She was, at least probably in his mind, his caretaker for now and nothing more concrete. She didn't want to give him the impression that he was unwanted here, he wasn't, but he distanced himself from her and because of that she always tried to make sure he understood that he had a place here, whether or not her husband would have backed her up she wasn't certain.

"Good I guess. Teacher's a pain," he rubbed his nose absently, a small smile gracing his lips, "and she ain't as pretty as you, Tokio-dono."

She smiled, ruffling his hair briefly before he pushed her hand away. She watched as Hiroaki swung Yukiko and then Tsutomu around. After several more times of this her husband's brother asked if they could gather some things for the strew she planned for dinner out of the garden. She yelled that it was fine and settling his daughter on his shoulders and taking Tsutomu's hand he led them to vegetable garden to collect some ingredients. She was about to go on another tangent with Eiji when he shrugged his shoulders, getting her gaze to focus on him instead of Tsutomu.

"I'm gonna go out back now," he said, running into the house to retrieve his brother's katana. Every evening he'd go back behind the house and practice his sword techniques. She'd watched him a few times, he pretty much just swung the sword around in a haphazard fashion, but the blade was too dull to hurt him so she'd allowed the little exercises because she knew it helped him emotionally and physically it diminished his pent up energy.

She watched him go wearily before smiling as Tsutomu came running out of the garden. He tossed the carrots into her laps, smiling at her with pride before snuggling into her side. She ruffled his hair, the same way she did to Eiji, and put an arm around one shoulder. Yukiko and Hiroaki came out a few seconds later, the girl carrying some small daikon (white radishes) while Hiroaki carried the bigger daikon and other vegetables for the stew.

She took the ingredients from them and the small carrots Tsutomu had managed to pull out and went inside to do her side of the work. She set the vegetables down, checked to see if they had any meat, and went back outside. She asked Hiroaki if he could take the children into town to get some meat for the stew. He agreed cheerfully, saying he didn't mind a wink when she asked. Soon Hiroaki's laughing, Yukiko's shriek of joy, and Tsutomu's questioning Hiroaki about what meat they should get drifted away from the house and down the street.

She had to admit Hiroaki was a good babysitter for Tsutomu when he became too much for her. The man was everything her husband wasn't; he smiled a lot, laughed even more, knew stories that blew the children's minds despite being so simple usually, and played with the children like they were all his own lot.

He was her husband's exact opposite, only their vaguely similar looks hinted of their relation. They both had the same pronounced jaws, high cheekbones, and long faces. Hiroaki's face looked much softer then Saito's ever had and the children of the school Yukiko attended, instead of being scared like they got in front of Saito, often visited his house to play with the eldest Yamaguchi. Several children had even ventured to come with Hiroaki to her house when he visited. Tsutomu had taken a strong liking to Yukiko and some of the other children. She sighed, it was a shame Tsutomu was an only child, he would have loved a sibling to look after and play with.

The sudden chilling thought that she'd have to get pregnant and go through those years of raising a child again deterred her from wanting more children. She loved Tsutomu dearly, but she still disliked children for their bad habits. It was out of her hands though, she was just grateful Tsutomu was an exceptional child because otherwise she wouldn't have been able to handle him. He had his moments where she wanted to choke him, his tantrums when he didn't get his way annoyed her beyond reason, but about half of the time she was happy she'd given birth to him. Besides she couldn't get pregnant if the other parent wasn't around to help reproduce.

She took out the big cutting knife and started carefully chopping the daikon and carrots first. She set a pot of water over the fire and continued chopping up the vegetables.

Hm…what was her no good husband doing to Kyoto that was so important to the Meiji and Japan's security? He hadn't told her much about his mission, only that a man named Makoto Shishio had taken it upon himself to start a little chaos in some villages and the government wasn't happy about it.

She brought the knife down forcefully onto a daikon. Her stupid husband was gone too often for her liking. Okubo worked him too hard. She was being selfish wanting him around all the time, but she felt entitled to a little selfishness. He was her husband after all.

She frowned, hearing something outside in the back. Was Eiji still here? She just assumed Hiroaki had taken the boy with him. She stopped her cutting, setting the knife away from the edge of the corner in case Yukiko or Tsutomu got back and tried to reach for it. Tsutomu had grabbed at a kitchen knife when he'd been two and would have lost an eye or something if she hadn't arrived in time to make sure the knife didn't fall. She hadn't since then allowed herself to be so careless, even moving Saito's wakizashi onto a shelf in the alcove out of Tsutomu's reach.

She found Eiji facing to the right while his invisible opponent stood on the left side of the garden. His eyes glowering, his little hands clutching the hilt of his katana as his body stiffened in response to his enemies' movements. He lunged forward, slashing wildly at intangible air. She watched sadly, a boy like Eiji, no even a grown man, shouldn't feel such anger and sorrow. It wasn't right.

Eiji hacked and thrusted, his waist twisting as he planted his feet and slew an enemy. He had no technique, but that wasn't required for a boy who was merely trying to come to terms with his family members' deaths, thinking his katana would provide him comfort and help him divert his emotions. She sighed, it was his coping method, just like Saito's was a cold exterior used to block his feelings from others, Okita's had been a smiling façade of happiness when he didn't feel happy, and hers…well…hers wasn't much better. She couldn't judge Eiji's coping method so long as it didn't hurt anyone or himself.

Still though sharing your distraught feelings she found over the years was the best way to move on.

"Eiji," the boy stumbled, laying face down in the grass. His brother's katana skidded away into a patch of carnations. She'd loved carnations for three reasons. It was her husband's birth flower, a symbol of a mother's undying love by the Christians or so her cousin Hideo Takamine told her (he'd lived in America for several years so he was pretty reliable when it came to ideas from abroad), and she thought they were beautiful.

She picked the sword out from under her flowers, careful not to break any blooms off. She went to Eiji who was sitting up, rubbing his neck and looking embarrassed that he'd fallen so pitifully. "You startled me, Tokio-dono," he grumbled, taking the dirt spattered katana from her hand.

He went to wipe it on his kimono, but she stopped him, taking the katana from his grasp again. She gave it a good hard swing, like Saito had taught her, and watched the dirt fling off with satisfaction. She handed it back to a surprised Eiji.

"I didn't know you knew how to do that!" He yelped, sounding like how most excited twelve year olds should. Or was he thirteen? She'd never asked his age. "That was so cool! Where'd you learn that? I want to learn that! Is it as easy as it looked?"

"Goro taught me the basics of swordplay," she admitted. "It's actually a lot harder to do then you might guess. You have to put just the right amount of force into it or it won't work properly and you'll find yourself having to use a cloth. Of course if your sword has a lot of blood on it, then you'll need to use cloth, but for a light spatter it works if you plan to do a lot of fighting and don't have the time to clean your blade properly. The first couple times I tried I couldn't even shake half of it off. Of course Goro didn't think it was funny when some dirt landed on his hakama. He taught me mostly defensive things though. He wants me to be able to defend myself, but felt I didn't need to know that many attacks." Eiji looked ecstatic through out her explanation, and she relished the idea that she'd made him feel like that. His face soured by the end of her words though.

"What's the use of defense without the ability to attack?" Eiji demanded, his eyes hardening as his voice rose in confusion.

"Goro wants me to be able protect Tsutomu or the others if I must, but neither of us would ever want me to stain my hands with blood." She saw the tightening of his jaw and his hands squeezing the hilt of his brother's katana as he turned his head away from her.

"A man said something similar to me once. He said my family wouldn't want me to shred blood, they'd want me to be happy…" His shoulders slumped, his jaw loosened, and his grip slackened. She placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the heat radiating off his shaking body part.

"He must have been a wise man, it would seem, for his advice is quite right."

"He's not dead," Eiji said slowly, smiling. She hadn't realized with her word choice that she'd implied the man was no longer living and felt herself blushed slightly. She wondered if Saito had said it, but doubted her husband would have been so…well…responsive to Eiji's emotionally distress. Not that he couldn't pick up other people's emotions easily, he was actually quite good at reading people and their motivations, he just wasn't any good at comforting.

"I didn't mean to―."

"Don't worry about it, Tokio-dono, Himura-san wouldn't mind your comment."

"Himura-san," the name resounded with her for some reason. Then she remembered, "Goro mentioned him. They're work together for the Shishio case."

"I got a question?"

"What, honey," she hoped he didn't mind her sudden endearment. Saito detested any endearment, he just barely put up with her using koishii and likely only because she used his name when she said it. She'd tried the endearment on Tsutomu, but he hadn't been receptive either to the term.

Eiji didn't seem to notice at the moment as he asked, "Well, how come you call him Goro, but Himura-san calls him Saito? And why does Saito call Himura-san Battousai?"

She blinked, aw how to explain that without telling him everything? "You see Goro and Himura-san are old acquaintances." So Himura was Battousai? Why hadn't he told her that? She kept her voice level though, but inside she was annoyed. "Goro had to change his name because of his line of work and Battousai was the name Himura-san was known by then. Of course you should keep this information to yourself, Eiji, you don't want to compromise Goro or Himura-san, hm?"

"Oi, I promise I'll only use their new names. I didn't know Himura-san use to be a police officer, that's pretty weird, I can't see him in the same uniform Sai…I mean Goro wears. He'd look strange," the mental image of the man made Eiji laugh.

She wondered what Battousai, aka Himura, looked like. She remembered rumors of the Battousai having a cross shaped scar and blood red hair, but she doubted the truth to those rumors. People liked to embellish things so it wouldn't have surprised her none if the Battousai was the exact opposite of those rumors.

She compared what Saito had said about Himura and what she'd heard the Battousai was like. The images were very conflicting, one a violent man with a noble idea of saving Japan through a revolution and the other a gentle rurouni with intentions no nobler then living a calm life in the Meiji. She found she liked the rurouni image better, the other made her think too much of a serial killer with no remorse. Or too much like her husband during the Bakumatsu. Of course her husband was still a violent man with a noble idea…some things never changed. Oh she was thinking too much like her husband.

"I didn't think being a police officer was so dangerous, but then again Senkaku would probably hunt them down if he wasn't in prison." Here Eiji's face took on a frown and then a vicious look of anger at the mention of the man who'd ordered his family's deaths.

Trying to clear the air and remembering that she'd left a pot full of water on the fire she asked, "Want to help me make dinner? You're good with diafuku right?"

Eiji grinned, looking happy that she remembered he'd told her his favorite food was diafuku. "Can we make yomogi diafuku?'

"I don't think I have mugwort," she admitted, grinning slyly, "but we can always send Hiroaki-san and the children out again. When they get back I'll tell him, in the meantime go back to your practicing, Eiji."

His voice stopped her just before the porch, "You can call me Eiji-kun, Tokio-dono, Eiichiro-kun wouldn't mind." He went back to his sword practice, trying to imitate her earlier blood cleaning swing and she hurried inside to check the pot. Steam was rising into the air from the boiling water. She removed the pot from the fire, watching as it cooled down.

She smiled, Eiji was slowly getting better if he was allowing honorifics. She'd guessed that his mother had always used -chan and that his brother used -kun on him and that the reason for his dislike of the suffixes had been the memories they brought. Eiji had finally after a month of living here opened up enough to allow that honor and that meant he was starting to move on. She knew forgetting his family wasn't going to happen ever, heck she still remembered her father and mother, but there was an acute difference in how she recalled her family with tenderness and how Eiji recalled his with anger. His anger would fade eventually as life continued on and after time his memories would hold only good reminders of a time gone by where he'd been surrounded by love. The occasional sorrow about their passing would be there, but it wouldn't be as debilitating for Eiji as it was now.

Why hadn't her husband confided in her about the Battousai though, she wondered, it wasn't like him to keep secrets from her. He probably thought it was best not to make her worry, she mused, setting the pot back down. More then half the water had dissipated, so she poured more in from the water jug in the corner. She'd have to send Eiji for more water from the community well, but not tonight. Tomorrow before they both went to their separate schools.

She wondered how her stupid lying husband was doing. She hoped he hadn't gotten into too much trouble, but knowing him he was probably in a sticky situation.

* * *

Saito ground his cigarette out and maneuvered his way over to the escape door. He shoved debris out of his way and stopped before the first beam blocking his exit. Wonderful. He slide out his katana and dropped into his standard Gatotsu. He winced as his knees bent and took a deep breath to steady himself. He wasn't going to die here, no way in hell.

He gave a roar as his sword collided with the wood and it shattered to a million pieces. His legs gave way underneath him and he tumbled over. He laid on his stomach, taking deep breath, knowing in a moment he'd have to rise or stay down forever. He rose to his knees, his arm and legs shaking. He cursed violently as his legs protested and bleed more to emphasis their point that he was wounded. He wasn't sure how his body managed to comply with the heavy demands of his will, but they did and soon he was standing again.

He wiped a hand across his forehead, sweat trickling down into his eyes. Hm, that stupid Shinsengumi headband he'd worn back in the day had been useful after all. He rubbed the bridge of his sweaty nose with his sleeve. He found his sword a few feet away, lying atop a pile of rubble. He cursed as he bent awkwardly to pick it up, trying his best not to agitate his leg wounds. His chest wound pulled the air out of his lungs when he straightened up, feeling lightheaded and angry.

He wouldn't die. He wouldn't die.

He squared his shoulders back, preparing himself for the second beam as he stepped back and dropped into Gatotsu. His muscles protested at the strain he was putting his almost completely bloodless body into. He forced his legs to propel him forward and the second beam disintegrated into rubble as his katana hit it.

He wouldn't die. He repeated the manta in his mind as he felt his legs wobble. He defied their wanting him to rest, willing them to hold his weight. He wouldn't fall again. Failure was not a word he knew. He ground his teeth and leaped back into Gatotsu. He felt like a noodle, like he had no backbone. He lunged at the last beam, letting his adrenaline and anger that he was so weak fuel his attack. The beam cracked in the middle where his katana hit, splinters falling around him. A long sharp splinter whizzed past his cheek and left a gash.

He flicked his tongue against the side of his cheek, that last attack had been pitiful. He was grateful the Battousai hadn't been here to see it. His legs finally failed him again and he crashed to the ground with a thump. He sat, one hand going to message his right leg. The other he pressed to the puncture wound Shishio had given him. The slash Shishio had inflicted didn't hurt too bad and had actually stopped bleeding which was either a good sign or meant he was out of blood. He took it for a good sign though because his other wounds were still bleeding. His legs bleed more profusely then Shishio's injuries because he was using them more.

He closed his eyes. He wouldn't die. He opened his eyes and stared at the escape door with satisfaction. Now if only he could get up. He rested the hand messaging his leg to the ground and pushed himself into a crouching position. His legs didn't like that idea though and sent pangs of agony rolling through him when he stood. He wouldn't die here. Tokio and Tsutomu needed him.

He pushed at the door, leaning against them for a second as they creaked open enough that he could slip inside. They closed him behind him with a bang and the noise jostled him on the inside. He leaned back against the doors, taking out a cigarette and his matches.

He smiled at the smell of sulfur the matches produced and lit his cigarette. He took a drag, closing his eyes again. Hm…why had he ever even considered quitting for Tokio's sake? Pfff, stupidest idea he'd ever had and that was saying something since he rarely had stupid ideas. He chalked up this Shishio case as his second stupidest idea as he took another slow drag of nicotine.

He blinked his eyes open and stared down the hall, hm…he still had to walk…shit…more leg work. He shuffled forward slowly, taking a drag when his wounds ignited too much pain and he wanted to feel a little bit better. He counted the steps slowly in his head, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…

He took a drag at forty something and lost count. He counted from forty six thinking that was where he'd left off. Damn this hallway was long. It seemed to be going smoothly, not diverting up or down and he was grateful as going up would have been harder on his legs. Then again it should really have been doing down, right? After all the door was suppose to leave Mount Hiei.

He pressed a hand to the wall to remain upright, dropping his used up cigarette and fishing around for his pack and matches. There was no way he'd be able to keep going without another one. He found the package and popped open the top. He got the end of the stick into his mouth and yanked it out slowly. He closed the container and put it back in his pocket. He leaned his shoulder against the wall instead and with one hand holding the match box and the other with a match he lit it. He puffed out smoke as he lit the cigarette. He dropped his match box, frowning at the item on the ground at his trembling feet. Shit. He didn't think he had the energy to reach down and pick it up. He took the cigarette from his lips, regarding the match box with annoyance.

"Chikushou," he muttered darkly, thinking up some elaborate curses in his head. He didn't like people who swore in public, it was disrespectful and unnecessary, but he felt he deserved a little leeway considered his position and the fact that he was alone meant no one would be disturbed by his cursing. He grumbled some affectionate curses at his match box before pushing off the wall and steadily continuing forward. His cigarette dangled precariously in between his lips and he figured he should use a hand to keep it from falling. Only the strength in his arms felt like it wouldn't be enough to even accomplish that. But if he dropped his cigarette he couldn't lit another one now…Hm…

He puckered his lips around the stick of tobacco and sucked in the relieving smoke. His head swam dangerously and he stopped in his tracks for a few minutes. His constant bleeding was affecting his abilities, slowing down his brain processing and slowing down his movements.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. His mind went to home. Aw, how nice that would be might now. He'd come home from a long day, his feet began moving again as he remembered his current life, and find Tokio and Tsutomu waiting. His wife would s smile delighted and Tsutomu would call him the name he'd become so too accustomed.

"Snake head," his three year old would say, his brown eyes gleaming with indiscriminate unconditional love.

He'd pat the boy on the head fondly and settle down before the alcove. Ryoko and Morinosuke would be over hounding them as per usual. Katamori would be sitting silently beside him, his benevolence and easy charisma radiating off his body. Hiroshi would come in the house in a foul mood that would quickly lift after seeing everyone there. He'd snort and call them all morons. Teru would chide him for being an asshole and use her annoying wolf boy name. After everyone left he'd be alone with his family. Tokio would tuck Tsutomu in and he'd get comfortable on the futon. She'd lay beside him and playfully tease his hair before asking how his day had been. He'd relax in her arms, kiss her roughly as was his want, and she'd dissolve against him, her face and voice challenging him to make her night. And he would…

He started at the sound of a voice, realizing he'd been laying flat on the ground. How long had he been passed out? He recognized it vaguely, it had a Kansai accent. Cho the Swordhunter? What the hell? Wasn't that Juppongatana in jail still? No way had the government let him go.

"Yo, look who I found. Ya got real beat up buddy," Cho said in amusement.

"What are you doing here?"

"The government sent me to find ya. Ya been gone for two days. The government knew the Battousai made it out with his friends, but this Okubo guy was pretty worried about ya so he sent me." He frowned, his body screamed at him when he went to stand. "You really shouldn't move, I got a carriage comin' to take you to Kyoto to see a doctor. Damn Shishio did a number on you, hm."

He snorted, he'd been right. He wasn't going to die here.

* * *

**Really long author's note, you have been warned:**

I was wondering about a scene in the manga. I only have volume 7-9, basically episodes 28-39 in the anime because I can't afford the whole series. Anyway there was a scene in the manga I was interested in. Apparently after Jinchu Arc Kenshin promises that he'll fight Saito, but Saito refuses. I was just wondering how that turned out, I was interested in writing a similar scene. And I'm aware that Saito moves to Hokkaido at the end of the manga, but the real Saito never moved away… Seeing as this story is based on the anime/history and not really on the manga as I haven't read enough of the manga to write it based on that I think I might not include the Hokkaido moving, I don't know yet, it just depends if I want to include it later… If any one could provide me with a little more information on the Saito/Kenshin/challenge refusal scene it would be really appreciated. My scene will be different then the manga scene of course, but I'm just curious as to how Watsuki-sama handled it. Probably better then what I'm gonna do, but I still want to give it a try.

An added note about the Jinchu Arc. I have very little knowledge about this arc, I only know the OVA Trust and Betrayal and the summary I've read about it, so poor Enishi won't be appearing because this is suppose to be following the anime and not the manga. Knows my lack of knowledge is disappointing to many readers and feels sorry about that.

Starts to wonder if I focus too much on Japanese food, but I think everyone would have their own food tastes…hm…well anyway hope everyone is enjoying. I'm kind of starting to wonder if the story is lagging, I know most stories start to after thirty or more chapters. I hope I'm keeping it interesting though, but any comments in reviews on the matter would be welcomed. Not a lot of bloodshed in this story which is kind of surprising as it revolves around Saito. Oh well, I guess I like dialogue/interaction scenes over action/suspense scenes. This story is starting to feel like a slice of life thing. I don't mind it, but I'm just curious on what everyone else would prefer. More action or not let me know in reviews? Thanks and R&R!

Japanese words this chapter:

Chikushou-'damn you' in Japanese in case anyone forgot

Daifuku-small round mochi (rice cake) stuffed with sweet fillings, usually anko, a red bean paste

-Dono-Honorific that is more respectful then -san, but less than -sama, kind of like right between the two, Kenshin uses it on Kaoru to show respect and humility

Yomogi diafuku-mochi flavored mugwort


	42. Chapter 42: Tokyo, 1879, Part 1

He sighed, happy that the idiots were leaving. He now remembered why he hated January. His birthday was the first. Every year the idiots came over to celebrate his birthday.

"See you, Tokio-chan, Wolf boy," Teru peeked Tsutomu's cheek, ruffling his hair, "See you another time too, cub."

"We'll come by when Goro-san's in a better mood," Katamori said, giving him a pleasant smile.

He saw Eiji shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. The boy knew his sentiments exactly. He hated January and his birthday especially.

Morinosuke hugged his sister, patting her shoulder, "Ryoko-san and I will visit when we get back from Osaka. See you in April, my onna."

Every year since their marriage in 1878 Morinosuke and Ryoko went to Osaka to visit some of her family that lived there. Because Tsutomu's birthday was in February and Tokio's was in April the couple left in late January and returned at the end of March to avoid missing any birthdays. Did he mention he hated birthdays in general, a whole lot of ruckus for little reason. He was just grateful all the birthdays in the house were around the same time. That meant the rest of the year had some logic to it. He glanced at Eiji, when was his birthday? It better be soon.

Ryoko, a plump balloon because of the baby, smiled and waved in goodbye as the two started down the street. It wouldn't be long before Morinosuke's spawn was in the world now; he prayed he'd die before ever seeing that day. The world didn't need another moron as stupid as his brother-in-law.

"Well I suppose I better get going before Goro-san decides to take out his bad gifts from Morinosuke-san on me, hm," Hiroshi said, hands in the pockets of his western garb.

"Morinosuke-chan's gifts are getting better every year," his wife insisted as she always did every time her brother brought him a stupid gift for his birthday. "Really last year wasn't so bad, the fancy handkerchief was a good idea if Goro actually ever got sick." She always used last year's gift to make this year's gift seem better. "And Goro can actually use this more practical gift, hm?"

"How the hell is a fishing pole practical? I don't fish," he snapped.

Hiroshi shook his head, "See you later, Fujita-san, Tokio-san, Tsu-chan. Take care Mishima-san."

"Bye Hiro-sama," Eiji said to the man as he waved a hand in goodbye before turning and disappearing into the darkening night. Noticing he was being stared at he rubbed a hand across the back of his head in his embarrassment induced manner. "Something the matter?"

"When did Hiroshi-san start calling you Mishima-san?"

"It wasn't the last time he came over, but the time before that. I think," Eiji's face scrunched up thoughtfully as he thought over the when. The why was more certain, "Hiro-san was asking me about Eiichiro-kun's sword. I told him about Shingetsu Village and we got to talkin' about his brother. He mentioned his elder brother and father died when he was pretty young himself. So since he was the eldest man in his family he said Katamori-sama started calling him Yamakawa-kun."

"Seems Katamori-sama has his hand in everyone lives," Saito grunted, his face thoughtful. "That man can't seem to do anything but shape the lives of those around him, eh."

"It would seem," Tokio said, smiling, "he shaped everybody for the better expect a certain amber eyed Wolf of Mibu."

He snorted and humphed at that, but there was a touch of amusement flickering in his eyes that had been subdued the whole day thanks to his bad mood.

"Why do you dislike birthdays," Eiji asked all of a sudden.

His good mood there a second dissipated with that honest casual question. Tokio looked as curious as Eiji, but was doing her best to hide it. It wasn't a question that had ever crossed her mind because she'd just assume he didn't like birthdays for the simple fact that they involved socializing, cake, and presents. Her husband was antisocial, didn't eat cake, and hated most of his presents so it made sense his mood would be foul on his birthday.

"A lot of reasons I suppose, another years means I've changes but everyone else has remained the same." His face became brooding. Tokio frowned, was he talking about his comrades of the Shinsengumi? He had to be. He'd taken out his cigarette, frowning as he pulled his last one out. Birthdays often made his cigarettes disappear surprisingly fast. No doubt the ashtray was overflowing in the living area. "I'm going to go get more," he mumbled around the stick as a match flicked from his box and flared into life by another sharp movement. He walked out, his smoke trail like a wave.

Eiji shook his head, "He smoked a lot today, nh? I'm surprised he still has lungs left. I'm going out back, Tokio-dono. Tsutomu-chan, you want to join me?" Her son waved his arms fanatically, yelping happily that he wouldn't want to do anything else. It was rare that Eiji let Tsutomu watch him practice, mostly because it made Tokio anxious that her son might do something stupid and Eiji wasn't the most skilled with a blade as dull as it was.

Eiji patted the shorter boy on the head as they marched, grinning at him before giving her a little nod. He'd keep Tsutomu at a safe distance and control his actions carefully his look said.

Shaking her head she went back inside to clean up the party mess. It would improve her husband's mood when he returned and found the place devoid of his gifts and back to normal. Saito liked consistency and birthdays usually ruined it. Not that he was a complacent sort, he had moments where he enjoyed peace and moments where he loved the challenge of fighting, but he liked routine above that. Routine meant order and he was all for order. Chaos was not his cup of tea as it inspired evil actions. Order meant more discipline and good conduct and that meant less evil. Of course if the world was devoid of evil her husband wouldn't have been overly joyous. He liked the hunt and slaying of the causers of evil, he'd be the first to admit he got excited eradicating that nauseous virus from his orderly world.

But without evil there could be no good, she reflected, there could be no standard of what was right and wrong without one or the other. No person would have any value if there was no judging, no morals, and all the actions of an individuals would have no cause for joy or disgust. She frowned, of course even evil people had morals, they were just decidedly disregarded in favor of the advantages of what their evil deeds brought. Her husband's sword was the delivering of consequences for their actions.

She sighed, her thoughts gloom and doom. She blamed her sour thoughts on Saito's bad mood today; his ill humor always depressed her. He'd been complaining at dinner this evening that some idiot had evaded his underlings and the government wanted him to deal with it. Of course when one said Hajime Saito complained one means it went a little like this:

"_How's work?" Morinosuke inquired jovially._

"_Fine."_

"_No problems?" Hiroshi asked, raising a brow, "I heard that some pretty big yakuza had been causing troubles in the Satsuma and Choshu domains. Apparently this yakuza and his gang aren't happy with the government."_

"_Nothing so serious. Only a man and some idiot friends trying to stir the pot. They're of no consequence. My real problem at present is a more prominent man whose eluded every hitokiri from the government."_

"_Your real problem," Katamori had nudged, his friendly smile present as always. _

"_No one as bad as Shishio, but a nuance to the peace," he said and the conversation had taken a turn to other things as Teru grew bored of the current topic and changed it._

She recognized his last sentence had been to reassure her. They didn't talk of work much, the months after the Shishio incident had been slow inviting no need for discussion. She still remembered acutely his state when he'd arrived in carriage from Kyoto. He'd been severely wounded, his injuries requiring that he'd seen a doctor before departing from Kyoto to Tokyo.

The fair haired man with a Kansai accent had reassured her that he was alive not a week before, arriving with a telegram and saying his superior he was a pain but luckily (or unluckily for him) was not dead. The man had introduced himself as Cho Sawagejo (his last name he only gave after some prompting in the form of a smile from her) the Swordhunter, formerly a member of the Juppongatana turned police spy. She'd politely offered him a reward for his obliging her husband's demands, but the man had said Saito would kill him for taking her offering. She had laughed and shaken her head, finding him utterly charming and invited him to dinner after Saito was better.

Saito hadn't said much as he went pass her into the house, his eyes portraying with a glimmer all she'd needed to know. He was alive, no need to worry herself sick anymore. She'd smiled then but later that night she'd seen the full extent of his injuries and hadn't. They were bad enough that instead of ravaging her as he did every time he returned he'd merely lain down to sleep. Of course he'd been hesitant to let her see the full damage, but had finally relented with a snort and a drag of his cigarette, letting her look over his wounds to make sure the doctor he'd seen had done them right and there was no infection. Through all the nicks and cuts her husband had endured he'd never been infected which had only surprised her, but that was good. He might not have lived through that.

Everything with Shishio had all happened in the summer of the eleventh year of the Meiji. It was January first in the twelfth year of the Meiji. She smiled, her husband was getting old. She wondered when his hair started changing if it would all turn gray about the same time and if it would be a pepper of gray and black for a while. She liked the latter idea better, thinking he'd be rather delicious as an old man.

She snorted at her own bizarre thoughts. The gifts all packed away she picked up the saucers and teacups. Once all the dishes were in the basin she began cleaning them. When she was done her hands were prune like after having been in the water for so long. During her work she could hear Eiji's grunting as he exerted himself and Tsutomu's exclaims of Eiji's greatness. She wondered if their ward would develop an ego bigger than her husband's after all the praise and worship her cub lavished on him.

Tsutomu thought anyone who wore a sword deserved a spot on his growing list of cool people, right behind the list of all the smokers in Tokyo and those with crazy bangs. Of course Tsutomu adored his father, always hanging on every word the usually reserved man said, trying to mimic him, and whenever he was home their son was always by his side like a second shadow.

When he was gone for work their son transplanted his frustration and loneliness onto everyone who had similar qualities, even something as trivial as smoking and sword carrying. Hachiko of course always grew jealous when Tsutomu, his favorite playmate, seemed more entertained with the Wolf than him. He did have a better claim at being a wolf than Saito in truth, at least he was a dog and they were kind of related distantly, like cousins twice removed.

So lately he'd taken to pestering Eiji when Saito was at the department. Her thoughts cheered up considerably when she remembered her husband's birthday present. She hadn't given it to him yet because after his first birthday together she'd started the tradition of giving him his gifts after everyone left because he usually liked to reward her with intimate futon time. She was pretty sure he was going to love his new gift.

Last year all she'd gotten him was a new kimono, hakama, and haori. He hadn't been disappointed, he'd needed more clothing anyway, but she'd noticed his questioning expression. He'd asked her why she'd brought something so cheap, his last couple birthdays she'd outdone herself by getting him useful gifts that just happened to be expensive. She'd told him she was just being practical and he'd dropped the issue, thinking she was sensibly saving them unneeded expenses. If he'd known her real reasoning he'd have been even more pleased.

She took out the wooden box from its hiding place. She'd hidden it more from Tsutomu and Eiji than the recipient. Her husband didn't care about snooping around the house to find presents and most of the time she'd put the presents in plain view in the living area when his birthday was only a week away. Saito wasn't one to get all excited about a present, but Tsutomu had last year ripped apart her husband's gift thinking it was an early one for him.

She laughed at the vision of the boy opening this one and finding the contents. He had scoffed at the kimono, hakama, and haori of last year; this year he would ogle the item with yearning to touch it. If Tsutomu's actions this last year indicated anything it was that even he would like the gift she was giving Saito, probably about as much as her Wolf would actually. Then again he'd liked it not only because he enjoyed seeing his father pleased but because he also liked shiny objects. He was as her husband would put it, 'a boy and they like flashy pointy objects.'

Her distracting thoughts kept her from noticing his presence immediately. Of course his smoking did give him away. She turned with a bright smile, "Happy birthday Hajime koishii."

He grinned and came over to kneel beside her. "Aw, another gift," his voice mocking the light of pleasure in his amber orbs. "Hopefully not the bait for the fishing pole your moron brother gave me. Or kami forbid the match for Teru's―."

"Enough. Just open it. You won't be disappointed," she heard the cry from Tsutomu outside and Eiji's slightly panicked voice trying to calm him down. As much as Eiji Mishima was slowly becoming a fixture of their family if he'd hurt her cub in anyway she wouldn't hesitant to exact revenge. Of course her husband would probably arrest her first, revenge killings had been outlawed in the sixth year of the Meiji. So she'd become estranged from her spouse because their ward had hurt their son. The thought was ridiculously funny and she almost laughed as she left her husband alone to open his gift. Sure she wanted to see his reaction but Tsutomu being in pain won over her motherly instincts.

It turned out there was no need for more bloodshed. Tsutomu had fallen down because he'd tried to imitate one of Eiji's moves with his imaginary sword and had tripped himself. He was yelling for kachan when she hurried from the house. She helped him inside and told him to press a damp cloth to it as she went to get bandages.

She was somewhat surprised she didn't hear a peep from their room as she helped Tsutomu clean his wound and disinfect it. He squirmed as she opened the ointment and cried when she rubbed it in. She smiled and reassured him that tomorrow it would be better. It was a little excessive even to apply bandaging, but she knew Tsutomu enjoyed the attention and even the little bit of pain he felt was smoothed by the care. He hugged her too tightly when she let him after she finished trying the bandages closed.

"Now be a good boy and watch Eiji-kun outside. Don't imitate him or you'll only get another, Tsu-chan," she ruffled his hair as he dashed out like a whirlwind of energy. His eyes right before he left had gleamed with a fire that said he wouldn't have minded another scrape if it meant he got her to nurse him again.

She went to the shoji and slipped inside. His back was to her, the case was open and she could see the glint of the steel. "Do you like it," she asked after a moment of complete silence but for her rapid breathing. She'd thought the sword had been the perfect gift. His old one was getting too out of shape after all these years of use. Hideo had even been surprised that the sword had lasted as long as it had.

He didn't respond to her inquiry with words. His hands reached out and he lifted the katana from its case, the steel flashed in the light as he pulled it out of its sheath. She could feel his inspection of the equipment, his thumb tracing the blunt edge down to the tip.

"It's a Kunishige katana," he said nearly making her jump. His voice was husky in that way it only got when they were making love. She wasn't sure what to think, was this a sign that he liked it?

"I brought it from Hideo-san, my cousin you remember is somewhat of a sword collector. He said it had been forged sometime in the Tenwa era, likely from 1673 to 1681."

"I figured as much," his tone was deep, the hand not holding the hilt touching the sharp side carefully. "Did he have it sharpened recently?"

"Aw…yes…. He keeps his swords dull if they come that way, but he sharpened the Kijinmaru just for you."

She could feel him smirking and she knew that was a good sign so she relaxed. "Kijinmaru is a fitting name. 'Demon' is very appropriate. What is the full name and the dimensions of it? I should know my weapon before I take it into the fray, hm."

"Hideo-san just called it Kijinmaru and I don't know the dimensions, you'd have to ask him."

"Perhaps I will," he sheathed the sword slowly. It gave a click as cross guard and sheath met. "Aw Tokio."

"Hm?"

"Take your clothes off. I have to reward you well for this. How much did it cost?"

"Oh a lot, but Hideo-san gave me a discount because we're related."

"Wonderful," his voice was huskier, his eye brow rising sardonically.

"Tsu-chan and Eiji-kun are outside," she mumbled. His gaze trailed over her body, lustful hunger blazing in his steady search. It was almost like he was caressing her where his eyes lingered and his mouth was on her neck when his eyes clouded with desire. She tensed instinctive, attracted by the predatory look he was giving her. Tsutomu's peel of laughter made her duck her head. Now was not the time to yearn for him.

"Send them to Morinosuke-san or Hiroshi-san's."

"They have their hands full with her pregnancy; they don't need our two to bother them."

"Then send them to Hiroshi, I don't care." He was upon her within seconds, his lips nipping at her neck just as his anticipation inducing eyes had foretold they would. She stifled a moan of pleasure as his teeth racked against her sensitive neck. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him close to her burning body. His tongue flicked hotly onto her skin where his teeth had inflicted pain, his hardiness pressing into one thigh to let her know just how eager he was to please her for his new katana. She kissed him violently, cramming her tongue into his wet liberating mouth, playfully pressing her tongue to his. A battle started to ensue between their tongues and hands. His fingers teased her nipple, twisting it around her in his hot hands. She racked her hands down his front, sinking her fingers through the fabric of his uniform to touch the hard wall of his chest.

He swelled below just as Tsutomu voice stopped them both. Gasping she leaned into him, tightening her hold on him. She pressed her head to the stiff collar of his outfit, breathing softly, "Take them to Hiroshi-san's."

"I have to do it?"

"You'll make them run after you. I…I'll stay here…"

"And what will you be doing," he rolled his eyes and she stifled a laugh. She went to the futon as he straightened his clothing, regarding her figure he raised a brow.

"I'll give you a show when you get back," she smiled at him mischievously.

He seemed to think it over as he eyed her lounging frame, a serene smile appearing on his face as his eyes narrowed into just his lashes pressed together. "Aw, Tokio-san, I think I'll be right back. Actually I'll drop them off at Hiroaki-san's, he's closer."

"Hurry back," she teased, loosening her obi. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at her as she spread the folds of her kimono and juban and began to satisfy herself while he had to kick the stupid children out. Damn it. Well at least he would indeed get a show when he got back.

* * *

"Goro!" He winced as Tokio came into the room, her hair splashed across her shoulders and down her back.

"Why are you yelling?" Katamori had nearly spilled his tea at her exclamation, not on his own lap as he was usually prone to, but if he'd lurched just a bit more he'd have dumped the streaming contents onto his lap instead. He gave the man a look of annoyance, all hell would have broken loose if the cup had succeeded on falling. The former Daimyo of Aizu gave him a sheepish smile, boyishly rubbed the back of his head at having narrowly avoided a death sentence.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked, glaring at his hyperventilating wife. Hyperventilating she was indeed at the moment, her breathing rapid, her eyes wide, and her face pale. A sudden bolt of panic leaped at his breast and he found he badly needed a cigarette to calm down. Panic wasn't an accustomed reaction for him in any situation, it was even worse than love as the latter was at least a warm feeling and not as claustrophobic as this feeling was proving to be. "You're not dying, are you?"

"I wish I was, really I do because I don't think I can put up with this all over again. Goro, it's all your fault."

"How the hell is whatever we're talking about my fault? Tell me what we're even talking about and maybe I'll decide if I have any fault in the matter."

"I'm pregnant!" Oh...Maybe he had some fault in that...

Katamori's tea flung from his jostled hands and as life would have it lightening did strike twice in the same place. If he'd been the Battousai he would have been oroing and nearly blacking out. He figured it was a good thing he wasn't or he would have been in a lot more pain. Instead his hand had taken the blunt force of the hot green tea, scorned but intact and his softer manly parts were safe. He considered the day saved and Japan's security firm as he considered his living to slay evil meant saving Japan. He'd been prepared for another tea spilling, but he was in no way prepared for the implication of those two words.

"I'm getting a brother," Tsutomu cheered as he came whizzing into the quiet room.

"Eh…" Tokio said and finally settling for nodding her head in affirmative.

"Hear that Eiji-chan we're getting another brother!"

"Tsutomu," he began, but stopped himself, glancing at Eiji. "You're right." The boy was pretty much family now anyway so hurting his feelings by saying otherwise wouldn't be taken well by his wife or biological son. Besides Eiji was a good kid. He blew off the startled expressions of everyone by taking out a cigarette and lighting up. Tsutomu who didn't understand the significance of his words kept blabbering on about his new brother coming into the world. The little shit was clearly spending way too much time with his oblivious Uncle, he thought, he'd have to correct that before he lost more brain cells. "You're not right about it being a boy though, it could very well be a nasty little mini witch," he said moodily.

His wife gave him a dirty look, her eyes falling onto his damp lap. "Goro you should change," she said with a nod to their room, his scolding for impregnating her impending in her causally said words. As they walked she hissed out lowly, "I knew I never should have brought you that sword, I bet you anything it was that wild night we had." He snorted, probably.

Aw, the trials of domestic bliss with a retarded three year old, a hormonal witch for a wife, a sword crazy ward with poor technique, and a soon-to-be-born Wolf who no doubt would inherit her mother's bewitching qualities. Aw yes and then the Akita. How could he forget the menacing idiot for brains on four legs? He nearly tripped over Hachiko when Tsutomu called for him to come from outside. He cursed, how had he survived up until now? He was doomed to die an early death and it would no doubt have nothing to do with his job. By the start of this horrible year he was already sure his death would happen within these next twelve months.


	43. Chapter 43: Tokyo, 1879, Part 2

Saito yanked out a cigarette and lit it, frowning at his house from the street. How to tell Tokio? Would she understand the significance of it? Hm… Should he even mention it to her? Did she need to know? He chewed the thought over, he didn't like keeping things from her, but…she might not take this the right way.

He started at the noise from inside. A baby's wail pierced the quiet around him. He pursed his lips, so he'd missed the birth then…a shame. He took a long drag on his cigarette, wondering how long his second child had been in this world and if Tokio had named the baby while he'd been out. He was fairly certain she'd have waited for him so he could have some say.

He whittled his cigarette down, smoking slowly, glancing at the gray trail that blew away at the slightly gust of wind. He crushed the snub under his heel and strolled the short distance up the path and into his house. He heard noise coming from the kitchen. He peeked into the kitchen after he disposed of his shoes. He found Ryoko and Teru, the former cooking while the latter watched with mild amusement.

"Ladies," he said curtly, suddenly noticing Eiji sitting in the corner with Tsutomu. Tsutomu was crying, nestled in the boy's lap with Eiji's arm around him protectively.

Eiji looked up at him, eyes going wide, "Goro-san, Tokio-dono is in the other room. Tsu-chan thinks…well…"

"Snake head," Tsutomu said, seeing him in the entrance. He rubbed at his teary eyes, "Snake head, baby hurt kachan!"

He saw Teru shaking her head, sipping her tea. Ryoko's facial expression wasn't visible as she was turned away making the food. "Be good, Tsutomu or I'll hear about it, hm?" He frowned at his eldest who nodded obediently. Tsutomu knew who had the authority here. "Enough crying," he added, feeling he should comfort the child. "The baby isn't hurting your mother anymore. I'm going to make sure they're fine."

"Tell kachan I love her," Tsutomu yelled after him as he withdrew from the room.

Ryoko's cheerful voice reached his ears, "Aw, Tsu-chan how about a uiro?"

"Uiro!" Tsutomu's yelled, "I love uiro!"

He slid the shoji open and stepped inside. A lantern and more then half a dozen candles lit the room. Tokio was sitting up in the futon, her hair loose and sticking to her sweaty face. Beside her knelt Katamori who was holding the small bundle that was his son. The midwife looked very pleased as she washed her blood stained hands in the basin. He waved the midwife and her assistant who was cleaning up over.

"Was she difficult," he inquired as he walked the women to the front of the house. The assistant girl was carrying the lantern and supplies they'd brought over.

"You mean he, you've another son, Fujita-san."

"Aw," another runt was just what he wanted. Not. The two women slipped into their zori as he watched them silently. After a moment he pulled out his pouch and handed them the payment for their services and a little more for the healthy baby. "Your prices are steeper then they were when Tsutomu was born," he pointed out mockingly with a shrug.

The midwife smiled as the assistant gawked at how much he'd handed her. "Sure, sure, Fujita-san, you're a grateful fellow."

"My pack is important to me. If you weren't such a good midwife I wouldn't give you so much."

"So so," she said with a nonchalant air. "Take care now. No girl yet, but you are hoping?"

"Tokio was."

"Hm."

"Goodnight," the assistant midwife said before the two left. He went back to their room. Tokio was cradling the baby when he came in.

"You missed everything, Fujita-kun." Katamori revamped, smiling at the baby.

"You've seen one birth you've seen them all."

"Oh but he was so good coming out, Hajime," Tokio said as he sat down. "He didn't struggle as much as Tsu-chan did."

"That's good," he remarked, lighting a cigarette.

"What's his name," Tsutomu asked bursting through the shoji with wild abandonment. "Can I name him Tsutomu!"

Katamori laughed as Tokio giggled. Finding the two unresponsive and not wanting Tsutomu to take to the idea he replied, "No, he has to have his own name."

"I've already picked out a name," Tokio said as Tsutomu snuggled into her lap and gazed at his baby brother with awe.

"What?" He asked, raising a brow. Why hadn't she consulted him? Oh right he'd been working.

"Tsuyoshi Hiraku Fujita," she said proudly, lifting the baby up. His eyes had been closed until now, but they shot open in surprise at the sudden movement. Amber eyes glanced around, one little hand clutching the blanket. His eyes stared at his hand in confusion, not realizing it was his own body part.

"Oi, he looks like a samurai," Katamori said.

"He got snake head's eyes," Tsutomu said clapping his hands.

He snubbed out his half finished cigarette and took the baby from Tokio. The kanji for Tsuyoshi could mean anywhere from strong or strength to samurai. Hiraku depending on the kanji could mean expand, open, or pioneer. Fujita meant field. Samurai pioneer field sounded stupid. He snorted, "Stupid name."

He handed the wide eyed baby back to Tokio. She cooed to him with a glowing smile, "I think the name suits him. He's a pioneer in the field of the samurai."

He snorted again, "Tsutomu has a better name."

"Tsuyoshi likes his name, yes he does," Tokio said as the baby opened his month and closed it repeatedly.

"Do something," Tsutomu hissed when Tsuyoshi closed his eyes again and fell asleep. "You're boring! Oh my uiro!" The three year old left the room to go eat his treat.

"I think Tsuyoshi-kun won't be as much of a hassle as Tsu-kun," Katamori said, "Can I show him to Ryoko-kun and Teru-chan?"

"I suppose we'll have to call him Yoshi-chan so as not to confuse him with Tsu-chan," Tokio said, frowning as Katamori took the baby to show him off. She wiped some sweat from her brow, smiling at him. "You're alright with the name?"

"I…the name's fine, Tokio." His gaze went bleak as he yanked out another cigarette. He didn't light it though, just twisted it in his hands.

"What's bothering you? You've been all out of sorts since you got back. Did something go wrong during the assignment?"

"Ichiro Shimada was executed last year in July." He sensed her stiffening and moved his glance from the cigarette to her bewildered face. "After my assignment this evening I returned to the Department of the Interior's Headquarters and spoke to a friend of Okubo-san's. You heard about his murder on May fourteenth 1878?"

"Yes. It was in the paper."

"It was his death that caused the Battousai to go to Kyoto to stop Makoto Shishio. Apparently a young boy by the name of Soujiro Seta who worked for Shishio killed Okubo-san, but Ichiro and some ruffians who had planned to assassinate Okubo on May fourteenth anyway said they did the killing and became the scapegoats the government needed. They were executed for the crime."

"They didn't do it."

"No, but they were yakuza. Ichiro," his voice dipped low, the barely contained and concealed anger rising in his voice, "has done more then enough to deserve it. I'm just surprised he hadn't been arrested before. I heard a few yakuza made it out before the police could arrest them in 1872, but this proves my theories if nothing else. Criminals don't reform and every criminal will get his due, even if he escapes once, he can't evade justice forever."

She was silent for a lone moment, turning over the fact that Ichiro was dead. "I haven't thought about that night for a long time."

"I think about it occasionally because the rapist got away."

She was silent, glancing at him. "Are you over it?"

He blinked at her slowly, regarding her calm face. "When I think of you in pain I'm far from over it. Other times I feel I should be for you and Tsutomu. However when I think it could happen again though I hate humanity and its capacity for evil," he frowned. "But when I look at you and Tsutomu I know why such evil must exist."

Tokio smiled warmly then, taking his hand, "I'm just glad to be alive. No more talk of evil tonight," she kissed him, grinning. He smirked, touching her cheek. She was his sanity in this deluded world of light and dark.

* * *

Okay so I found a place where I can download Rurouni Kenshin manga. I read the Saito/Kenshin challenge scene and was quite taken by it. Watsuki did a great job on that. When I next update I'll be skipping over some years. Sorry if this chapter's short, there wasn't much to include in 1879. Anyway thanks for reading and reviewing.

Japanese Words to Know This Chapter:

Uiro-steamed cake made of rice flour and sugar. It is chewy and sweet. Comes in lots of flavors including strawberry, chestnut, and green tea.


	44. Chapter 44: Tokyo, 1882, Part 1

This chapter is dedicated to Tokio Fujita (or Saito or Yamaguchi if you want) because April 15th is her birthday. Hope everyone isn't too unhappy about my long wait. I wanted to update on Tokio's birthday and this chapter was hard for me so it took longer. The first scene with Madoka was terribly difficult and a lot longer then I'd originally intended it to be. It was just suppose to add a little action to the story, but ideology and whatnot got thrown in, lol. Hope Saito taking about love doesn't seem....out of character. I don't think it is, but feedback would be welcomed. Oh and yes everyone is getting shipped off to Hokkaido because I'm evil. Saito's probably rolling in his grave. Enjoy and R&R.

* * *

He tensed, watching the other man carefully. Goro Fujita huh, the guy had a strange intensity, Madoka Tomiyama thought, a really bizarre ferocity in his amber gaze. He prepared, raising his sword as Goro lowered his into an offensive stance. This man would be no pushover like the other sergeants and inspectors.

He glanced at the officer who would start the match. He saw his wife and young daughter standing off to the side. She was wearing blue today, his favorite color and even their daughter worn a lighter shade of blue. It was a thoughtful gesture. Maemi was a good woman. Aina waved, smiling. She had turned seven last October. He found it hard to believe she was so big after he'd held her as a baby.

He would be triumphant in all his fights today, he assured himself, to please his little girl and wife. Maemi would smile all the way home and Aina would recount his victories while glowing with a youthful fire. Perhaps they'd even stop at Keiichiro's house on the way and see how his brother was faring.

"Ready," shouted the officer, glancing between the men to make sure they were both prepared, "Go!"

He lunged at Goro who sidestepped his attack. A roundhouse kick surprised him and sent him sprawling in the grass. He took a deep breath as he heard Goro advancing. Getting to his feet he just barely blocked a blow to his head. Good thing they were using shinai.

He parried the next attack and using his small height to his advantage he slipped past another kick. Goro's stomach was right there. His fist went to connect, but instead of hitting hard ribs his fist was blocked by a hand. Goro had brought his left hand down just in time to block the attack, his right hand clutching his sword. Wait a minute…Hadn't he been holding the sword with his left hand not a moment before? When had he switched hands? It seemed improbably that he'd had enough time to do such a thing.

He jumped away, eying the man before him more cautiously then he'd previously. The man's stance was predatory with a touch of arrogance and his grim angular face rigorous in it's adhering to the ideas churning beneath those virile golden orbs.

He'd been taught Christianity by his mother because she'd considered diversity in religious ideals important. His father had said nothing on the matter expect that he not leave the Shinto faith. Remembering these lessons now he saw the Archangel Michael reflected in the amber gaze. Probity that never had been stained, sincerity untouched by doubt, conviction unmarred by questioning, and the sense of duty unrestrained by compassion. He was the General of God that had sent Satan himself to Hell.

He shuddered, trying not to appear flustered. He didn't want to let down his family by being too afraid to fight. He was no coward. He answered Goro's vicious sweeping arch with a swipe to the side of his right shoulder. The man blocked his blow, his katana never faltering or hesitating. He leapt away from an outpour of several malicious attacks and waited.

The two men stared at each other across the short grassy expanse. Hazel eyes met amber slits. They looked more gold when the light was good, he mused, instead of the light brown they'd appeared in the stuffy gloom in his office where he'd first met the man today. The black strands constantly in his face and eyes swayed languidly across sun kissed skin, trickling his nose. His eyes remained still like a watchdogs, their flame not like the flickering of a candle but clearly as bright.

Goro moved first, unafraid of his counterattack as he closed the short distance between them. Their swords locked and wavered as they both applied as much pressure as they could, hoping to tip the balance in their favor. Goro's face was too close to his, making him hitch his breath at the glow in those eyes. Violate and uncompassionate, searching his very soul as if he was starving for something. Like a raging beast…hungry was the appropriate term for the look he was receiving… Hungry for what he dared not guess.

"Tomiyama-san," the man said, "I've enjoyed this fight with you and so to be generous I'll award you with a draw. Is that satisfactory for your ego? It suits my own."

"You've been playing me?" He let out, pushing harder against his own katana, hoping a little more effort would afford him victory and make Goro realize he'd not been a toy to be disposed of. "Ah is that so!" And then the truth of the matter sunk in as he felt Goro's hard shove. He'd been sweating profusely, using all his strength in the fight whereas Goro was untouched, looking exactly as he had when they'd begun hardly ten minutes ago. Even the force that knocked him down now looked like little effort on Goro's part.

He rolled to his feet, glaring at the tall man before him. Goro looked unfazed by his angry stare, raising his katana to counter any forthcoming attacks. He couldn't beat this man and he knew it with a certainty that annoyed and embarrassed him.

Back in his youth in Tosa he'd been the best swordsman and he'd quickly learned in Tokyo that he was still one of the best. Most men were good at sword arts, having been forced to take lessons by their fathers and grandfathers. His own father had owned a dojo and he'd excelled at swordsmanship at an early age.

To the samurai of past to not know how to wield a sword was disgraceful and embarrassing, it meant dishonorable death in the most certain terms not a warrior's death where you fought the enemy every inch. In these days the sword bore little weight, it was more and more becoming something you did for sport as the gun began to outweigh the importance of the sword.

The man before him was a dogma following traditionalist who was no longer needed in this day and age. He was a remnant of the tumultuous time before Japan had moved out of the uncertain darkness of the Shogunate and into the light of the Meiji. This man had no useful function in this society, expect for perhaps the role of law enforcer.

It seemed bizarre that a man so staunchly imbedded in his ideals could work for so flexible an entity as the Meiji. Was not the government his enemy? Was he not against everything the current regime stood for? The Meiji represented growth in the economy, peace instead of the constant fighting, freedom from old principals, and safety from danger. The Meiji represented more then any of its other personification's one single word; change. Change was the hymn of this era, the Ishin-no-Sanketsu the heralds, and the Emperor Meiji the symbol of harmony brought about by this change. He respected and adored the Meiji; it was everything he wished to protect.

This man before him standing so proudly, waving his flag of rebellion that was his sword, entrenching in old codes like Bushido, and against all that was good was his enemy.

He growled, a deep sound that vibrated in his throat and trickled his adam's apple. "Who are you?" He demanded, not quite sure if his words were comprehensible as he mumbled them through parched lips.

"Who am I?" Asked his adversity, amber orbs never faltering, but glowing brighter as the sun reached its peak and splashed the landscape and his face with light. "I'm not your enemy."

His eyes widened and the shinai, a moment ago clutched in white knuckles, dropped to the ground. The crowd around them he'd forgotten about until now. He heard almost collective exclamations of confusion. His wife and daughter must be surprised by his odd actions, he mused, but he needed to know.

He glanced up into amber eyes, "Who are you then?"

He didn't really mean it in the literal sense; he knew well enough Goro Fujita's name. His question was entirely different and Goro who seemed overly observant and perceptive seem to understand completely.

"I believe in one thing, Tomiyama-san," the man's voice was assured and unhesitating. "Aku Soku Zan. That is why I am not your enemy. You've never done anything evil. You've been misguided and your thoughts and assumptions ill conceived, but your intentions and your actions have not gone awry."

He'd almost asked what would have happened of he'd gone awry as the other put it, but realized the stupidity of such a question. This man valued nothing above that motto, no authority would stop him from exterminating those he considered evil and no status, no wealth, and no former good deeds could free one from this man. You could think as evilly as you pleased, but the moment you acted outside the law he pounced. Once you committed evil you were forever this man's prey.

Goro was before him then, picking up his shinai and then turning away and handing them to another officer. "This is a draw," he said impassively. Then the man was before him and saying briskly, "If you ever have need of me I live in Bunkyo Ward. Drop by the station there and you'll find me, Tomiyama-san."

"Fujita-san!" The man had turned away. He had just remembered where he'd heard the man's motto from before. His father had uttered those words once when mentioning the vicious enemy of the Meiji called the Shinsengumi. He was a Wolf of Mibu? His absolute enemy in every sense of the word. "Were you one of them?"

"I am and always will be. We were only adversities because of our different ideals; men do love to kill each other over petty things. We both believed we protected the citizens, the law abiding populous. In the end we were both labeled raving murderers by those whom we gave our lives to protect. Life is cruel, hm," he turned abruptly to look back at him, "Good evening, Tomiyama-san. I do hope to see you another time."

* * *

Walking swiftly through the crowd it was not hard as most stepped out of his way. He passed an officer standing on the outskirts of the crowd. Yasuyo smiled, tipping his hand with one hand as the other slipped a scrape of parchment into his pants pocket. "Good evening, Fujita-sama. See you for dinner Wednesday?"

"Tokio-san invited you I take it," he snapped, not looking over joyous. "First she invites the Matsudaira siblings, which I have little problem with so long as Teru-san stays quiet, then she invited that loudmouthed brother and his family, and now you? Wonderful," he bite out, looking annoyed.

"I think she also invited Hideo-san."

"Her cousin Hideo-san?"

"From what she told me."

"Damn."

"I'll see you Wednesday, Fujita-sama," Yasuyo was walking away when he added over his shoulder, "I'm bringing a guest too, Fujita-sama. She's my betrothed."

"We don't have room for all these goddamn guests," he grumbled as Yasuyo laughed. Tokio was waiting with the children outside a candy shop on his right. She waved him over and he grudgingly came over.

"That was very stupid of you, Goro-san. People still remember that motto…and who it equates to…"

Tsutomu was trying to steal Tsuyoshi's uiro, something about Tsuyoshi getting the better favor.

"Calm down wife," he said, "Few people listen to words spoken in a fight, thinking it mostly obscurities. Three fourths of the crowd was too busy catching up on gossip. The others who heard or might have don't remember that time or the motto, either too young or too senile."

"You don't know that. You put yourself in danger today and for what? To spew out your ideology?"

Tokio was in a bad mood today. Tsuyoshi started sobbing, his half eaten uiro in the dirt at his feet. Tsutomu had his hands clasped behind his back, an innocent expression that unknowingly marked him as guilty on his flushed face.

"Here," he snapped, handing his three year old some money. "Go buy another one, Tsutomu go with him and make sure he gives the right amount. Only one for each of you, no fighting over the favor either. No stealing his Tsutomu or you'll get a beating when we get home." The boys scrambling off back inside the building, both knowing he'd beat them silly if they disobeyed his rules.

He looked at his wife, frowning, "Forget it, Tokio. It wasn't like I explicitly gave my name away nor did I scream it out loud. Tomiyama-san was likely the only one who heard. Calm down. What's bothering you?"

She'd been in a bad mood all day. They'd awoken the children early, bathed and dressed them up primly, and had a light breakfast. Tokio had worn a lovely kimono, an inviting purple color and he'd worn a new police uniform for the occasion. Through the whole morning she'd been distracted, forgetting to brush Tsuyoshi's hair for him and forgetting her shawl at home.

The tournament had been sponsored by police headquarters, a kind of display to satisfy the citizens' worries that the police force was incompetent. For him it had been a good day to test his fellow officer's combat skills. He'd been thoroughly disappointed at the weaklings he'd seen, but to the crowd, who were merchants, wives', and businessmen the worthless fighters had appeared skilled beyond their years. He on the other hand doubted any of them would be proficient against even the most mediocre swordsman. Tomiyama and a few others aside the police needed to train better.

That train of thought led him back to his conclusion. Tokio wasn't really angry about his revealing slip during the tournament, though he'd been careful enough not to attract scrutiny, she was upset about something else.

It was rare that his wife got distressed like this, the boys could be a hassle and usually tired her out, but there was always a joy in her face even when she was exhausted by them that bespoke of her paternal nature. It was odd to think Tokio, who spoke so vehemently about children even after having her own, could be so attentive and loving to their sons. She was that type of person though, caring of individuals no matter their age.

Children had faults, he mused, which annoyed Tokio because most parents refused to scold their children out of love. He himself wished half the people he knew had children didn't because they were terribly unsuited for the task. Children were blank slates waiting to be filled, they didn't need whimsical parents, they needed strong figures that could teach them right from wrong and do so without hesitation. A lot of parents failed their children, though they might have done so unintentionally.

He wondered if years from now someone, or Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi themselves, would say he'd failed them… Sometimes even the best parenting when wrongly directed becomes hideous; but which, even when hideous, remains grand. Such teaching has but one vice; error. Every parent who has raised his child well and yet the child turns to evil is to be pitied.

He shook his head, glancing at Tokio. "Tell me," he insisted when she remained silent.

"I….I went to see Teru-san the other day. She was very ill. She was sitting in bed with blankets all around her and yet she was complaining it was cold. She was very pale and she coughed so much blood into her handkerchief…" Her eyes, which had gazed upon the scene, were reliving those heart wrenching emotions she'd felt when she'd beheld her closest friend in such agony. Ah, so that is what had bothered her all day. Why hadn't she confided in him earlier? She picked up on his unasked question; she was nearly as perceptive as he was. "I didn't want you to be distracted during the tournament. You seemed in such high spirits about it."

"Tokio," he cut off his next words when their sons came back outside. "We'll talk later. Should we take a rickshaw home, boys?" He directed to his over hyper sons.

"Rickshaw, rickshaw, rickshaw! Can we please?" Tsutomu who loved the rides clamored as Tsuyoshi munched his food, taking the opportunity to eat his uiro while his sibling was distracted.

"I think they should burn some of their energy by walking home," Tokio suggested, making both boys' pout at her. Tsutomu as was his habit ran a hand through his ear length hair, several strands awkwardly sticking up in the back. Tsuyoshi, noticing his brother's hair ruffling, pressed his own short hair down flatly, looking embarrassed at his brother's wild appearance.

His sons were completely different from each other. Tsutomu was more candid, impertinent, quick tempered, and easier to calm. Tsuyoshi was more reserved in speech copying what he saw of the adults around him, bristled at Tsutomu's rebellious nature because he saw his father do so, got annoyed rather than angry, and only when Tsutomu stole his things or bothered him too excessively did he lose his calm. He'd put up with six of Tsutomu's meltdowns in one day rather then deal with one of Tsuyoshi's tantrums. Tsuyoshi rarely forgave what he perceived as grievances, much like him, and he could hold grudges for almost a week whereas his brother often caved in an hour.

He sometimes feared what his sons would be like once older. Eiji had turned out alright, but neither he nor Tokio had really laid the boy's foundations. Where was Eiji right now anyway? He'd promised to watch the fight today. Eiji better not be at that girl's house.

Eiji had recently taken a fondness to a neighbor girl with blue eyes and dark hair. She was a pretty thing and well mannered, but she was too self absorbed in his opinion. He feared Eiji, who was not wealthy and had no familial connections to higher persons, might be pushed aside for a better suitor. The girl had already been betrothed but had turned him away for an unknown reason.

He frowned, remembering the letter in his pocket from Yasuyo. He pulled it out and read it as he walked…

_SH,_

_At the end of summer when the weather in Hokkaido permits travel into the region you will be transferred for a serious case there. You're old comrade, Nagakura Shinpachi, will fill you in on your assignment once you arrive. Drop by the department before you leave. – KK_

Hokkaido? What the hell? Did he mention he hated…no vehemently opposed…no…he could think of no word that describe his hatred of Hokkaido. And it had nothing to do with Hijikata and his fellow Shinsengumi members deaths' there. It even had nothing to do with Nagakura's living in the region they wanted to transfer him too. It was a simple thing he hated. Snow. He hated snow. It was nothing more then a hindrance, cold and wet, and ten times worse then rain.

What the hell was Kiyotaka Kuroda thinking? Bastard. Kiyotaka was a pain. The man had never to his knowledge done any underhanded deeds, there was an incident with his wife where people had thought he'd killed her in a drunkard rage, but the body had been examined and he'd been cleared of charged. He'd looked into the matter with his dead wife himself, but everything had pointed to the man's innocence and he wasn't about to kill a man based on no proof. He'd trusted Okubo a lot more than he trusted Kiyotaka, but Kiyotaka had taken over for Okubo and as things stood he took orders from him for his assignments. Maybe he could refuse? The idea was pleasant, but not realistic.

He'd tell Tokio when they talked later about this new predicament. Tsutomu was running ahead with Tsuyoshi, laughing and singing a song they'd learned at school. He glanced at his wife, thoughtfully noting her sad countenance. Perhaps he should handle the children for the couple hours before bedtime and then tuck them in…let her be alone with her thoughts.

When he was sure no one was paying attention he took a step closer to her as they walked. It was hardly noticeable that he'd closed a little distance between them. He pressed the back of his hand against her knuckles, one finger gently stroking the back of her hand. He stepped away from her. She gave him a wide eyed look before her face softened from sorrow to delight. She looked becoming with the smile that graced her face and the brightest in her eyes. He enjoyed her like this and was quite glad he'd done that little labor of love to gladden her. It pleased him to see her happy.

He noticed Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi, who usually ran into the house like wild animals, standing on the porch. Tsutomu was holding his brother's hand, looking modest and bewildered. Tsuyoshi's face was scrunched up in his confusion, his little brow all wrinkled.

"What's the matter?"

"Otosan!" Tsuyoshi grabbed his pant's leg, clinging like a scared infant. He raised an eyebrow at his three year old before looking instead for answers from his six year old. Tsutomu looked around in a frantic frenzy, looking uncomfortable as he shifted his weight under his father's increasingly impatient gaze.

"Snake head," his son still used that affection term. "Well…I think Eiji's inside the house. I opened the shoji, but…um…it was dark and…um…ah…I heard weird noises…"

"Weird noises?" He asked, annoyance and impatience lacing his words. "What do you mean weird noises? As in snoring or something…" His sudden harsh tone dissipated as his brain processed the most logical reason as to why the candles would be out and what Eiji would probably be doing in the dark. He glanced at Tokio with realization as she did so in turn. He grabbed Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi and shoved them both in his wife's direction. "Take them to Hiroaki-san's. He wanted to see them tomorrow we might as well bump that up a day."

"Come along," Tokio said, herding the two confused children. "Eiji-kun's probably just practicing his sword techniques or something."

"I want to see Eiji-kun!"

"No, Yoshi-chan, he's busy and Otosan has to talk to him privately."

"But…"

"No, just no."

"Fine," huffed his youngest while his eldest looked on with puzzlement.

He turned away from their retreating figures to face the house. He took out a cigarette and lit it. Taking a drag to still his nerves and steeling himself as if about to face Madoka all over again he pushed open the shoji and stepped into the darkened house.

He put his shoes in the getabako, making out the blacker shapes of furniture and objects in the living area. He'd been lucky, he mused, that he'd never come in on Morinosuke or Ryoko doing anything in her room…but to think that it would be Eiji and not one of the tenet girls he'd have to talk about this too was disheartening. At least with one of Tokio's students he could just kick her out, Eiji was family more or less so he couldn't, though he might really want to after this conversation. Eiji knew the rules better then anyone, no girls alone in the house. He'd only allow the girl over if he liked her well enough and he'd made it pointedly known he didn't like Eiji's crush.

He headed to Eiji and Tsutomu's room. What did one say in this situation? Should he knock? It seemed more appropriate then to―. He realized his error then. The noise was not coming from Eiji's room, but from the kitchen. His jaw tightened, oh hell no…even he and Tokio hadn't defiled the kitchen since Tsutomu's birth, both promising silently not to fornicate anywhere the children might go. Of course it hadn't bothered him too much, he'd never liked love making in the kitchen in the first place. It made him feel uncomfortable and Tokio seemed to feel similar to him about that.

He lost all sense of property then, if they had the gall to do that in his kitchen they'd pay for it. He ripped open the shoji, hearing the echoing slam as it cracked against the frame.

He heard a last groan and then a feminine scream of panic. Eiji muttering of, "oh no, no…damn…this can't be happening…no…" He repeated the words as he slipped his kimono back over his tanned lanky shoulders. The girl, hastily tying an obi around her waist, was turned away from him as she fumbled with the ties.

He lowered his eyes to the ground, not wanting to see any indecent exposure of body parts. He coughed roughly, his voice low and menacing, "Eiji Mishima…"

"Go…Goro."

"Come out here when you're dressed, boy," he turned and retired to the living room near the alcove. He frowned, thinking of how to handle the current tricky situation. Should he just be blunt and outright tell them they'd never get to see each other again? Oh…wait they were going to Hokkaido anyway so that solved the problem…then again he really hated snow. Actually he hated snow more then he hated the conversation he was going to have right now.

He heard Eiji and the girl come out of the room. They were talking in hushed voices. "Where do you think your going, girl?"

She stopped and both turned, "She was going home, Goro-san."

"You sound nervous, Eiji, don't be. I won't bite your heads off I swear. Sit," his voice smooth and unaffected. Eiji stood unmoving while the girl reluctantly came over and sat across from him. She bowed low to him, her hair falling in knotted disarray around her shoulders. "What's your name? I've misplaced it."

"Kotone Oshiro," she fumbled, twisting a strand of hair around one finger as she straightened up. Her eyes met his nervously before darting to Eiji. Mishima sat down, wearily placing both hands on his knees.

"She isn't at fault―."

"I will decide who is at fault here," Eiji clamped his mouth shut before glaring and thrusting his hands forward. One look though made the boy speechless though. "All these years you've followed the rules set down, Eiji, and you've grown attached to living here too I suppose? If that is the case why would you so suddenly disregard all the laws in this household, particularly for some loose slut?"

"How dare you," hissed Eiji when Kotone turned red faced.

"How dare I? How dare you go sneaking around my house and in the kitchen no less! It was Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi who nearly came upon you unchaste children! Have you no regard for property? No respect?"

"I was wrong, Goro-san, but people make mistakes," Eiji whispered, lowering his eyes sheepishly. He lifted his face at his next words, no hesitance in his hard eyes. "You can't make give her up just because you don't like her."

"Don't be foolish, Eiji," he said.

"You're not my father; you can't order me to turn her aside."

"Humph," Eiji didn't realize how much that hurt him and in truth he was quite startled by how much it did hurt. "Do you love her?"

"What?" Eiji glanced at her and then back at him, looking visibly bewildered.

"You heard me. Do you love her?"

"I…" Here he glanced for a long time at her, his eyes slowly tracing her features. Then he turned back to Goro, his face white, his eyes hard as flint, and his hands clutched. "Yes. I love Kotone."

"I love Tokio," he said simply. It was the first time he'd admitted such a thing to anyone but her. It came out easily and he felt no weight or stress about having said it aloud to a stranger and his ward. His tense shoulders were much more relaxed than they'd been when he'd been contemplating this conversation. "I love Tokio. Until you can say with sincere honesty, Eiji, that you love Kotone-san, forget this foolishness."

"Foolishness! I do love her!"

"You understand only selfish indulgent love, not the kind that sparks wars and tears empires apart."

"Aw," Eiji snapped, throwing his hands in the air. "Don't you understand what I'm saying? I love her!"

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

Eiji's jaw clutched, "You don't know anything, old man."

"Humph. I know more than you do. You're so young and inexperienced; you don't know love, but the unconditional love of parents and siblings. It's an entirely different love from romantic love."

"How is it different?"

"By asking the difference you show your youth. I'd do almost anything for Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi. For Tokio I'd do anything. Do you see the indifference?"

"You mean," Kotone said, staring at him with blue orbs that flashed with comprehension, "you'd only do certain things for your children, but you'd do anything for your wife?"

"I was given the duty to see my children to adulthood and ensure they grew up right. It is a duty I value beyond measure. Concerning Tokio I choose her for my own because I value who she is and what she values. My love for her is a different sort of love than my love for my children. Some people only know the love of a child, but someday that child will leave you and go off into the world to make his or her own path…My wife would never leave me unless it were for the grave. There is a more binding, more absolute love than the unconditional love of a child. The love of a spouse who is willing to say what you've done is stupid, who is willing to point out your faults, who is able to laugh with you, and cry with you, and who will never leave your side because life is unbearable without you. That is romantic love in its truest form and it shouldn't discredit other forms of love." He realized the strange look Eiji was giving him and glared, "Why are you staring like that?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you speak so passionately about anything expect Aku Soku Zan…scratch that actually I think this beats that."

"Well…shut up. Don't mention this to anyone."

"Uh huh. When you said our love is 'selfish and indulgent' what did you mean?"

"I meant you only love her so long as she makes you feel better. The instant she challenged you in anyway you'd toss her aside or her you. To completely love someone you must be willing not only to compromise your stances on some things, but to allow their criticisms and judgments. I'm not saying that one should compromise their morals for love, that would be an abuse on trust and prove the fickleness of the love involved, but be flexible to an extent."

"But you always say we should value our morals, right?"

"Ah…love is a complex thing to explain. Let me ask you a question. Would you murder an innocent man if your brother Eiichiro-san asked you too?"

Eiji frowned, "He'd never―."

"Ask you too, I know that, but for the sake of the argument. Appease him or keep your conscience?"

"It depends on the situation―."

"To hell with the situation. There is no situation. You know the answer to the question already; you proved it many years ago. Be honest."

"I don't love him any less―."

"I know that. So you wouldn't kill for Eiichiro-san because it would make you less of a person, it would burden you with guilt, it would tarnish everything you thought he loved, it would―."

"I get it Goro-san! I get it, goddamn," Eiji was crying now. His tears slid down his cheeks and he rubbed them away cursing.

"You wouldn't kill for Eiichiro-san," he said continuing as if Eiji weren't crying, "but would you steal for him?

Eiji met his eyes, his breathing shaky as he said, "I'd do anything else but hurt or kill someone for him…"

"Ah, but what if your stealing indirectly hurt someone?"

"That's like asking what if I threw a persimmon peel onto the ground and someone tripped over it the next instant. I'd regret it afterwards, but life isn't lived without risk," Kotone said.

"You've got some sense, but wouldn't it have been best to have done what was right in the first place especially since you knew throwing the persimmon peel might have resulted in injury to an ignorant passerby?"

"But I didn't know someone would trip."

"Didn't such a conclusion―."

"What is going on in here," Tokio asked, appearing in the entranceway, looking annoyed. "I left the children with Hiroaki-san. How come you're not lecturing them?"

He blinked, "Oh right. Eiji the whole thing about love had a reason to it. If you love someone as I described you would never do anything to hurt them. That being said would you hurt Kotone-san's reputation and get her pregnant?"

"Of course not!"

"Then don't do stupid things like that for your own selfish indulgence."

"So that's why my love's different than yours…"

"Yes…Oh, Tokio…"

"Hm?" Tokio was busy fixing Kotone's hair. He waited until his wife was bidding the girl farewell and then was coming to sit down.

"Kiyotaka-san wants me to go to Hokkaido."

"That's unfortunate; I know how much you dislike snow. I hope you won't be there long."

"The whole family is moving to Hokkaido, not just me. Whatever Kiyotaka-san wants it's going to require a temporary residence change."

"We're moving," the thought of leaving her beloved Tokyo had never crossed her mind he knew as he saw her facial expression.

"No way in hell," Eiji hissed, "I won't leave Kotone-chan."

"I'll tell the children tomorrow," Tokio said after a moment.

"It's an unwelcome post that we'll all just have to bear for a while. You may stay in Tokyo if you find a place to live here, Eiji, we won't drag you with us. After all I'm not your father, I can't make you."

Eiji visibly grimaced, looking guilty and vexed, "You know I didn't mean that, Goro-san... I was just frustrated and angry."

"I know."

"I… I need to think about it."

"That's fine."

"Thank you for being so understanding," Goro had been a lot more understanding than he'd expected about the whole thing.

"Oh and Eiji?"

"Yes?"

"You're not allowed outside until we leave and I'm taking Eiichiro-san's sword from your room for a few weeks. I am strict on my rules not being broken, you understand."

Eiji winced, "Can't you take something else? My fundoshi even? I could live with out those..."

"It wouldn't be as good a lesson if I just took your fundoshi, though I considered taking both…"

"You're evil, Fujita-san."

"I know, Eiji, it's why you love me remember."

* * *

Yeah so...Saito taking Eiji's underwear as punishment, lol, is quite absurd. I know this is ridiculous, it was meant purely to be a funny ending to this rather serious chapter. Of course Eiji probably doesn't have much less that he'd care about being taken expect Eiichiro's sword, clothing aside he probably doesn't have a room cramped with stuff...so fundoshi taking seemed both like a funny idea and a fairly practical thing. Who could want to walk around with out underwear for weeks...hm? I wouldn't.


	45. Chapter 45: Hokkaido, 1882, Part 1

"So you're moving to Hokkaido, Fujita-san," Hideo said, pushing up his glasses. "Seems a bit…eh…sudden."

"Work related, of course, Hideo-san," he said between puffs of his cigarette. He didn't know Hideo as well as he knew the rest of Tokio's family. Both Tokio's cousins had been exclusive and rarely came over. The last time Hideo had dropped by Tsutomu had nearly snapped his glasses in half. He couldn't really blame him after that incident, but even before that he'd always said he was busy. Hideo was the opposite of his brother-in-law, well learned, traveled, and gentile. Half the words that came out of Morinosuke's mouth would scare or scar the poor man.

"Ah…so the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department wants to move one of its brightest officers from the highest crime infested city after Kyoto to a low populous region that hasn't seen a murder in decades? Makes little sense, Fujita-san."

He frowned, letting out a long drag. Katamori exchanged a quietly amused look with Tokio and Teru. Tokio looked embarrassed and Teru just shrugged, coughing into her always handy handkerchief. Her doctors had recommended she keep handkerchiefs on her person for when her coughing came and it was a good idea for sanitary reasons.

Teru usually stayed home nowadays, it was safer as tuberculosis was contagious disease and she was often weak for days on end. She seemed to be fairly energetic today, probably meant she'd slept for the last couple days. She didn't seem to mind being stuck at home, like he would have, and everyone often came to visit. Tokio had even made him come once and Teru had even said, "Oi, you brought Wolf boy, long time no see." She'd smiled in a way that was becoming increasingly uncommon. It had made him think of Okita's smiles by the end and he'd turned his head away, mumbling something about her stupid nickname for him.

Hiroshi was drinking his tea, looking between them with contentment. Hiroshi had been in good spirits lately, he'd meet a pretty girl whose name escaped him and was courting her. Apparently he'd even mentioned to Tokio marriage was a possibility.

He turned back to Hideo, whose unmatched intellect clearly understood something was not right. It was a shame he felt no inclination to explain his off time activities to this man, he had a feeling Hideo wouldn't understand even if he had felt the need.

"As I said before important work related business calls me to Hokkaido. Besides," he added, watching a snaky trail of smoke, "crime thrives everywhere humans inhabit. One person can commit more atrocities than a whole colony of imprisoned convicts."

"Theoretically that's true, but wouldn't you be a better asset to have in Tokyo? Why don't they send a less seasoned officer to deal with the petty crimes there instead?" The same question had been nagging at him for weeks, but Kiyotaka had felt no need to be methodical in the details of his upcoming assignment expect to say Nagakura would answer them upon his arrival.

He shrugged, "Believe me, Hideo-san, I feel as you do about going to Hokkaido. It's an unsuitably cold, damp, wet, and snow covered wasteland. And I have to deal with the Ainu…who I really have no idea how to communicate with. Oh yes this will be my idea of a walk in the park."

"Koishii?"

"What?"

"Damp and wet mean the same thing."

He made an incredulous face as every one processed to laugh at him. He narrowed his eyes at his wife, "No, damp means slightly wet or moist and wet means soaked with water or other liquid. Therefore they are not the same."

"Are we debating the semantics of words?" Katamori asked with a laugh, shaking his head.

"It would seem we are…" Hideo hid a smile behind a waving hand, saying, "Just be careful not to die of hypothermia or frostbite over there."

"I hate Hokkaido."

"So you hate guns, children, Hokkaido, snow, and more besides? Life must be pretty depressing, why don't you kill yourself?" Teru's statement had killed the conversation, particularly when she started coughing. "Because," Teru had said between wild coughs, "I love life and don't want to die, so perhaps you can take my place, nh, Wolf boy?"

* * *

Saito stomped the snow off his boots as he hurriedly closed the shoji against the biting wind. He cursed, hands freezing despite his gloves. He knelt and ripped his shoes off, flinging the snow covered shoes in the getabako. Tokio eyed him from her crouched spot near the fire.

He noticed as he approached her that the wood beneath his feet creaked and the smell that made him think someone had died in this house lingered despite Tokio's repeated attempts to deodorize. The house was more spacious and had plenty of room for the children, but he'd decided he much preferred the cramped, smell free, tatami mat house. It was more like home.

He took her offered blanket, wrapping it around himself and cursing everything for the snow. The fire was warm and he settled his soaked tabi feet nearly in the coals.

"So how was work," asked his wife in mocking jubilation, her hands removed his cap and rubbed his pink ears.

He glared, "Nagakura threw a snowball at me and then one of his sons' ran into me and I lost my balance and fell in the snow. I've never heard of a grown man throwing snowballs. He's a moron. Of course now that I was wet and cold it started snowing and I was freezing my ass off… What the hell is funny about what I'm saying?"

"Oh I just find it cute that you're complaining about something," here she matted his hat hair down and her hands took his to warm them. Her hands were clammy but their warmth made him not remove them. "I don't think I've ever heard you complain about anything so vehemently before. I mean the occasional remark, but really a whole paragraph about your dislike of snow. How come you never complained about the snow in Tokyo?"

"There was never this much snow and I never had to endure a winter with Nagakura since 1867. Plus bad things always seem to happen when there is snow."

"What do you mean?"

"Yamanami's death. Okita and I were outside in the snow. I told you this back in 1871 remember. It seems like a lifetime ago."

"Yes," Tokio said, her head falling onto his damp shoulder. "I remember that night. You put your haori around me and even held my hand. You were such a romantic! How was that a bad night?"

He snorted, "I'm not and never have been a romantic and I wasn't talking about that night. Silly Tokio," one hand touched her hair gently, his fingers getting tangled in the dark strands. "Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi are at Matsu's right? Where's Eiji?"

"Eiji's upstairs moping again about Kotone. I can't believe he's so heart broken."

"She was his first woman and his first love we must give him time."

Tokio slipped her hand into the side of his jacket between his buttons. He looked at her in growing delight, one hand trailing over her shoulder and down her back to settle just above her bum. She smiled, one hand slowly unbuttoning his jacket. "Tokio," he pressed his lips to her cheeks, slowly kissing her jaw and then her hair and neck.

Her hand reached up and she yanked on his hair. "You need a hair cut."

"I thought you like my hair long?"

"Not half way."

"It has to get to half way before it becomes long, stupid."

"Don't call me stupid, Hajime koishii."

"Humph," he ran his free hand over her stomach, slipping between the folds of her kimono. After some fumbling he got through her juban and found the warmth of her flesh. She shivered against the contact of his cool hand against her warm stomach. He smiled, biting her neck teasingly, "Tokio."

"Eiji's just upstairs," she mumbled.

"He won't come down."

"You don't know that."

He flicked his tongue against her skin, his hand going lower, pushing her thighs apart far enough to reach the soft flesh between. He let out a small grunt of pleasure when her hand fluttered against his growing hardiness. Ah hell, Tokio was going to….

"Goro-san we got a problem," Nagakura's whiny voice echoed around the house. He cursed as his former comrade came upon them. The man stared, flabbergasted before blushing and turning violently into the other direction. "I'm so sorry, Fujita-san, Goro-san. I had no idea…"

"Shut up," Goro hissed, removing his hand from the warmth of Tokio's body to the coolest of the air. "What is it for kami sake? Can't you ever knock?"

Tokio looked embarrassed, but her eyes when they meet his said they'd finish this later. "Would you like some tea, Yoshie-san?"

"Thank you, Fujita-san," Nagakura turned around slowly, making sure they were both appropriate before he came over and joined them on the zabuton.

"I'll be right out with some. We only have green tea unfortunately; I hope it's to your liking."

"Why don't we have oolong?"

"Because the vendor I went to didn't have any at the time."

"But you got green tea?"

"So?"

"So…I don't get oolong or soba but you get green tea and arare? Sounds unfair. I swear you neglect to buy the things I like just to annoy me."

"Life's not fair, koishii," Tokio said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

Tokio frowned, staring down at the parchment before her in thought. She twisted the ink brush in her hands wondering what her sentence should be. She could hear Goro around the room, restlessly walking and smoking. Some thought was bothering him and the snow coming down outside was getting on his nerves he'd said earlier.

Nagakura had left hardly half an hour ago. She'd been preparing to write a letter to Morinosuke and everyone in Tokyo when he'd come into the room. He'd lain down for a few minutes and when she hadn't joined him he'd snapped, "Do you have plans to sleep tonight?"

"I'm writing Morinosuke-chan."

"Can't he wait?"

"No." Not five minutes later he'd started his current pacing. "Could you stop pacing, I'm trying to think of what to write." Her nerves were as quick as his tonight. She couldn't help remembering the letter she'd received from Katamori that morning through out the whole day and it had ruined her good humor. He'd mentioned Teru's health wasn't improving.

"I need some distraction… Nagakura only said bad things today."

"Well…can't you just sit and smoke? Please Goro?"

"I'm restless," he replied, his steps halting for a moment before resuming. The constant tap of his feet on the floor and the creaking they made was too much. She set her ink brush down, stood, went to where he was pacing, and pushed her husband onto the futon.

"Stop," she insisted, her face close to his. He looked breathtaking. Before she fully comprehended the situation he'd turned the tables on her and was now on top of her.

He grinned wolfishly, "You stop moping and I'll stop pacing."

Her shoulders slumped and she turned her head to the right. Her eyes took in the white walls and the half of the shoji she could see in her skewed vision. The handful of candles situated by where she'd been writing couldn't penetrate the darkness of the farthest wall from the desk. The futon just happened to be near the wall.

"Teru's dying."

He blinked at her in the semidarkness, his face intent and serious. "We've known that for a long time."

"It's different now, before we could put it off, before we could talk about it occasionally, like it was some distant enemy we could fight off…not now. Now it's at our doorstep, staring us in the face, and Teru won't talk about it expect when someone presses her. She cries all the time now…she's afraid and I'm afraid…and I can't help her… I wish I could help her, she's my friend…she's done so much…been so much to me….I…I…"

She buried her head into his shoulder, her tears spilling as they'd refused to do for weeks. "I want to help her…I don't want her to die, I don't like feeling so helpless."

He rolled them gently so they were lying on their sides. Pulling her close he was silent. His voice when it came was soft, tender in a way she'd not heard often even with her. "I was the same when Okita died. I hated it so much that something as pitiful as disease was taking a man as strong as Okita. I hated Okita's smiles those last couple days I saw him. He knew how much we needed him…how much he brightened everyone's lives…I bet he even knew he'd die alone. He was there during Toba Fushimi, but he was severely sick. The Shinsengumi were stationed in Edo for a time and when we left he stayed because his health was so poor. He died there…When Hijikata was planning on going to Sendai he asked me to see him before he left. We spoke…"

"_Saito-san," Hijikata said gruffly, staring off into the distance horizon._

"_Hijikata-sama," he said, following the man's gaze. Finding nothing of interest out there he turned his attention back to his commander. The weather was mild and the wind only a slow gust of coolest against his face and clothing. His bangs stirred a little, trickling his nose. Hijikata's hair moved a little, some strands pressed to his ears. _

_He seemed unaware of this as he spoke, "Saito-san will you be honest with me?"_

"_I would never lie."_

_A warm charismatic smile broke across his face, "I like how you speak, Saito-san. You don't say, 'I wouldn't lie to you, Hijikata-san,' or 'I admire you too much to lie to you.' You disregard who I am, you don't care who you're speaking too. You wouldn't lie because you don't like lying and because of your impartial to who I am. It's this thinking I like best about you, my friend. So be truthful then when I ask these next questions as you have always been honest."_

"_What do you wish to ask?"_

"_I know you to be a good man," Hijikata turned and stared at him unflinchingly, bluish green agate meeting indifferent amber. "I could never face Kondo in the after life if I made peace with our enemies. I don't want to out live this era, I can't do it. But you, you who always had no real enemies, you can. You don't hate the Ishin Shin the way I do, you don't see them as a collective bunch of evil…you can tell an individual from a group…I can't. You'll come into this new era with the same ease into which you infiltrated Ito's group. A little twist of your hand and like the spy you are you'll change into another man who can fit amongst them, but forever with the same ideals. Be my spy in this new era, Saito-san, watch and safe guard it from those who claim to be its protectors. They will not see your necessity, but they don't need too. Don't forget or forgive their sins as time passes. Condemn them their evil actions and by plucking out the bad seed from the good help make the people of the next era better."_

"_Of course."_

"_That's all you'll say, 'Of course'…" Hijikata laughed, "I'm binding you to a lifetime of slavery to the ideals of the Shinsengumi, long after we have fallen, and you say simply, 'of course.' No protestations, no whining, no doubt. I knew I chose right in you. You're stronger than the others. The few of us who survive will no doubt forgive and forget, but not you. Thank you, Saito-san."_

"_Thanking me is not necessity, whether or not you asked me too to do so I would have. It's much easier to save your breath, Hijikata-san, you'll need it."_

"_I could say you need yours far more than I do. I just figured someone should thank you for the citizens; they won't know to thank you for giving up your life for them. At least enjoy a little of your life for me, hm? None of us really had the time for love, only base entertainment. Get married or have at least a child. Some family, hm? Oh I'm going to give you this. Not for sentimental reasons, which I know we both hate, but to forever remind you."_

Saito dangled the pocket watch in her face. It was the first time she'd seen it. She'd glimpsed it only once when he'd changed out of his uniform and it had fallen out of his pocket. She'd caught nothing more then a sliver of gold before it was tucked back into the darkness of his pocket. Like some buried treasure she beheld the gold watch, opening it and looking at the crystal face that cheerfully told the time. This gold time keeper that weighed no more then a few ounces was the reminder of his burdening motto, every tick reminding her of his sworn duty. She twisted it in her soft hands and turning it over she was half disappointed to find the back not emblazoned with that very motto. It was empty, a testament she mused to his blank life of not so long ago.

"Hijikata-sama gave this to you," she breathed softly, watching as one of the candle's flames glinted off the metal's surface and flashed a golden color before dimming. Her husband's eyes were like this gold, reflecting the light when he was in the sun and mellowing in the dark.

He shrugged, "Yes."

"A fascinating story," she remarked, uncertain of what else to say.

"Tokio," she turned her gaze to his and he took the watch and set it beside the futon. "Don't you understand why I told you that story?"

"No," she admitted at a lost as to the reasoning.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, his touch warm compared to the coldness in the room.

"I told you that story so you'd see, so you'd understand…" He sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. "Must I be so damn blunt with you, my little Sada?" She blushed in delight at the old name, loving when his lips stressed each syllable in his teasing way. "I told you the story so you'd understand this; Teru may die soon, but everything you've ever learned from her, everything you've ever heard from her, and everything you've ever loved with her and about her will not be lost in her death. It is a never ending circle. If she dies her teachings, her loves, her words go on through you. If you die they continue through everyone you've ever encountered. Do you see, if you died I'd not forget you and everything I've learned, heard, and loved about you…your teaching me to love, your sigh," he pressed his lips to her neck to test his theory and a sigh broke pass her lips, "your intellect―."

"I get it, koishii. Why do you keep talking so much lately, hm?"

"I talk more when I'm happy and I've always been talkative, Tokio."

She smiled, her depressing thoughts of moment before disappearing. "Promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Can we go see the cherry blossoms when we get back to Tokyo? I'm going to miss them while we're here."

He became thoughtful before a devious smirk captured his lips, "No."

"What do you mean no?"

"You heard me."

"Oh if that's how your going to be," she went to rise from the futon when he pulled her back down.

"Where are you going?"

"To finish Morinosuke-chan's letter, stupid."

"Don't call me stupid, Tokio."

"Humph."

"Didn't we have this conversation earlier about my hair, but the other way around?"

"Yes and I was right then and I'm right now."

"Ah," he grabbed her and kissed her, his mouth rough and his tongue hot. She pushed against him, glaring up at him. "Can't we just stop talking for a bit? I really feel like doing something else."

"Did you do all that talking just to get me to bed?"

"Did it work?"

"Maybe," she nipped at his ear.

* * *

Notes For This Chapter:

Ainu-native inhabitants of Hokkaido and several other islands. Paler skinned than Japanese with a distinct culture and language


	46. Chapter 46: Hokkaido, 1882, Part 2

Saito paced back and forth along the short distance under the shadow of the awning, his black kimono pressing against his hips. Nagakura watched him impassively, folding his arms over his gray kimono. The movement made the collar of his juban brush uncomfortably against his neck. Wincing he reached up and tugged on the offending garment, noticing Saito's pacing had stopped. He was standing unnaturally straight, hands crammed in his pockets, neck taunt because he had his head tilted back in an awkward position.

"What's the matter?" He asked, scratching his neck.

"He still hasn't been caught. I'm anxious to deliver him to justice."

"Ah," Nagakura ran a hand over the front of his kimono, burying his gloved hand into the folds to keep it warmer. The wind had picked up and the temperature was well below normal. He liked Hokkaido summers, they were always mild and pleasing, like spring all summer but without the rain. He just didn't like winter's cold temperate so much. Thankfully he didn't mind the snow the way Saito did, in fact he found the snow entertaining, particularly when a snowball hit his comrade in the back. Saito swung around, glaring daggers at him. He smiled innocently, "Something wrong, Goro-kun?"

"You and snow shouldn't be within half the breadth of Japan to each other. Whoever thought of putting you in the proximity of snow was even stupider and more foolhardy than the idiot who gave you a katana. This unfortunate combustion has lethal consequences, meaning if you don't stop throwing goddamn snowballs at me I'm going to lose my sanity for five minutes and kill you."

"Aw, you're so snappy today, buddy, calm down. Take a minute and be quiet, it does wonders on relaxing, I should know."

"You mean to tell me you can actually be quiet for a minute?"

"Sarcastic and quick tempered doesn't suit you as good as silent indifference."

"Hm," Saito was looking down the street, his brow collected sharply above his nose before relieving when a dog appeared from the alley, explaining the noisy commotion that had gotten his attention. The look Saito gave him said he wasn't in the mood for his jibes tonight; work usually inspired such rigidity in Saito.

He sighed, scratching a spot behind his left ear. He could be home with his wife, but stupid Saito had felt compelled to pull him out of his futon and do some patrolling. He hadn't done any serious patrolling for years. Saito being a hard ass as he was meant a dutiful night watching all the heavy crime areas and then a thorough but quick once over of the less crime infested parts of the city. After that another round of the bad spots before being shipped off home to rest for tomorrow's shift. He'd always hated being stuck with Saito's squadron back in the Shinsengumi years as Saito didn't ease up on his routine just because another unit was joining his. In fact Saito was usually more of a pain when the group was bigger. Ass.

He completely agreed with the men who whispered unsavory names behind his fellow captain's back, Saito deserved some shit for being so hard. But then again he could remember some times where Saito's meticulous patrols had landed them in time to save lives. At least Saito's tiring patrols were better than Takeda's leisure strolls. They just lazily walked in all directions for about an hour before Takeda commanded them to retire. There was a reason Hijikata had disagreed with Kondo about Takeda getting a squadron's command. He was a cad with a flattering tongue and no common sense and greedy to boot. Bigger ass than Saito certainly. At least Saito had good moral precepts, not slimy Takeda. Or Ito…or Kamo…or…kami he knew too many immoral people.

He snorted dryly into the silence, watching a shadowy figure that ended up being an older boy and his sister walking home late. He wondered on their evening, tea, smiles, warmth, good company in plenty and some umeboshi….um…

"Goro-kun."

"Hm?"

"Can we stop at a restaurant on the way back to your place?"

"Tokio-san's making soba. You said you'd stay for dinner, but if you refuse to stay for dinner I won't miss you."

"Cruel, just cruel. I want umeboshi and as much as I relish your wife's cooking I can't resist my umeboshi. Miki is expecting me early anyway so maybe I'll just skip your house, stop for some umeboshi and head right on home."

"Sounds like the best words I've heard from you all night."

"Ba―." They both fell into silence, hearing the heavy thud of booted feet coming down the street. Saito drew his katana as Nagakura fingered the hilt of his. The footfalls, clearly more than one, came closer. Vague apparitions of darkness appeared as if out of the ground. Saito tensed just as Nagakura relaxed. Nagakura waved towards the ground at him, a signal both remembered from their Shinsengumi days signifying the katana wasn't necessity at the moment.

"Lieutenant Brunet," he greeted easily, "what brings you and this troop?"

Saito raised a questioning eyebrow at the name. It was French and the short man before him was clearly Japanese.

"Greetings, Yoshie-san," he directed his gaze to the taller man then. "Inspector Fujita-san we caught wind of him in the business district, but lost him in the shopping district of Nakkido."

"I see. Patrol Nakkido with a troop of ten men, make sure they are prepared to face him. Give them whistles so they can sound an alarm. Groups of five or three men to each district connecting Nakkido. Nagakura go to the station, inform the Superintendent, and then meet me near Mount Tengu by Fujiwara district."

"Why by Mt. Tengu?"

"I believe that is his destination. He'll want to hide in the mountains, in some cave or other until the hunt dies down. Is Miki at home with the children?"

"Yes…"

"Lt. Brunet please sent three men to Nagakura-san's home to protect his family. As a former Shinsengumi captain his life might be in danger and that of his relations." The troop of men Brunet had arrived with marched off into the night to do Saito's biding. "Why does that Japanese man have a French name?"

"His name is actually Heero Kita but he took his last name in honor of Jules Brunet. He's quite a legend here."

"Humph," he turned swiftly and started into the direction of Mt. Tengu. Mumbling as he pulled out a cigarette, "Why is it always a mountain? Stupid villains."

Nagakura laughed, "Get use to it buddy!"

* * *

Tokio blinked at the man in the doorway before smiling and inviting him in. If Goro had sent him over from the police department that meant they were in no danger. She went into the kitchen, fetching some kasuteria and tea.

Her kaiken was in its colorful bag and tucked as it always was lately in her obi. Saito had insisted ever since they'd come to Hokkaido that she carry it on herself where she was, even if it was at home and in leisure. The serious way he had talked about it made her nervous and now this officer was here. Something wasn't right about her husband's newest assignment.

"What did you say your name was," she asked politely, settling the tea and kasuteria before her guest.

"Haruto Hagos."

"Haruto? I like your name," she smiled at him, "I'm Tokio Fujita."

"Don't you mean Saito?" She stared in startled silence for a moment before opening her mouth to contradict him when he waved a hand and said. "I was a member of the Shinsengumi a long time ago, Saito was the third unit captain. I was in the sixth unit myself."

"Oh," a spark of caution flared up in her mind at his words. Surely her husband or Nagakura would have mentioned to her that another member of the Shinsengumi was living in Hokkaido? Had they wanted to keep the knowledge to themselves or had they not known? She lowered her eyelids and her lips twitched a little as she pondered the issue. Remembering her manners she schooled her features and smiling at her guest asked, "Some tea?"

"Thank you," he grinned back as she poured the hot liquid into his teacup.

"Your welcome," she rose and returned to her previously vacated zabuton. She pushed aside her sewing instruments and Eiji's kimono and resumed staring at her guest.

He was quietly sipping his tea, his eyes downcast. His brown hair curled under his ears with turfs sticking up a little in the back. He had a meek persona, she mused, but his build was rather intimidating. He was taller than her by a good two inches, almost Saito's height, with broad shoulders and muscular biceps. His blue kimono was short sleeved, which wasn't advisable given the weather, but his haori was double layered to protect him from the winter weather. His tan hakama was smoothed out beneath his large beefy hands. All his clothing, despite his ill kept hair, was neatly pressed and excessively clean, suggesting he was a man who cared for his things.

She rather liked him. He gave an air of strength tempered by humility, pride constrained by wisdom, and passion ruled by experience.

"What region of Japan do you come from?"

"I come from Yamagata prefecture in the Tohoku region."

"From Yamagata?"

"No, not the capital. I come from a small village near the Sea of Japan. If I might inquire as to your birth place?"

She smiled at his meekness; it was a becoming fixture on this man. "I was born in Edo, but my family traveled to Aizu when I was young. My brother had his education in Edo…eh…Tokyo would be more appropriate I suppose. During the war I was in Aizu helping those in Tsuruga Castle. After the castle fell I went to Tonami with the survivors of the war. I had no choice in the matter, I was an exile. It was in Tonami, Japan where I met my husband Goro. I moved to Tokyo and not a year later Goro came and proposed. I've not been outside Tokyo until we moved here."

"I see," he sipped his tea. "You've been through much. We all have, those of us from the old world. We still remember Tokyo as Edo, Kyoto as a battlefield, and clan before everything. Are your ties to Aizu still strong?"

She frowned a moment, picking her teacup up and drinking. Her ties to Aizu? They felt like no more than the weak strands of memories. She hadn't been back to Aizu in years and after the fall she'd never considered going back there. She barely remembered the place of her youth, it would be uncomfortable going back to see where she'd lived so changed. Going back to see Aizuwakamatsu would be worse. The Meiji had burned it to the ground. To see the destruction of the castle would be too much.

"I've not been to Aizu since then. I fear what I might find should I return. A sorry sight where the castle had once stood so proudly. Excuse me, I'm being too emotional. It is a hard thing, moving on from one's past."

"Perhaps it is better not to forget. The Meiji is always preaching about how good it is to forget because that way all those who have grudges against the tyranny of this government will dissipate. Like the cherry blossom in the May, to fall into the water and be washed under it's tide. Some of us will linger as long as we can on the branch of our beloved tree."

"Forgiveness will only be given with time," Tokio shrugged, smiling at Haruto. "Some wounds take a long time to heal. My own don't seem as painful as they once did. They feel like no more than scars. I don't think we should continue hating and killing as in the Bakumatsu. There is no useful purpose in manslaughter, not now and not in the past. I'm glad I never sought revenge for my wrongs for it would have been poor solace I think. I have found peace in this era through my husband and children. They give me so much joy. Do you have family?"

"No."

"They are good distractions from the past. We help each other move on and to love."

"I find being without a family a good thing. I would not let my family be the reason I forget."

She opened her mouth and closed it, shaking her head. "I'm not saying I'm forgetting."

"It seems to me that's what you're saying."

"No, I'm saying―."

"Tokio-dono," Eiji called from outside. He pushed the shoji open, "We're home." She saw Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi laughing and playing just behind the now open shoji. Tsutomu threw a snowball at Eiji. Mishima whirled around, stormed over to her eldest and grabbing his arms threw him into a snow bank by the side of the road. Tsuyoshi laughed wildly at the scene, his little hands shaking the snow off his kimono before he flounced inside. Tsuyoshi was naturally more graceful than his sibling she'd quickly learned, though Tsutomu was taller and stronger.

"Okasan!" Her youngest cuddled into her side, burying his cold head into the warmth of her kimono and body. She ruffled his hair which made him pull away. Patting his hair down and glaring at her he noticed the guest. "Who are you?"

"I'm Haruto Hagos."

"Tsuyoshi," he muttered, becoming meek in front of the stranger.

"I'm Tsutomu," said the boy as he came over and asked in a rush of excitement, "When are we eating? I'm hungry! Are we having uiro? I can't stand all the soba we eat."

"I don't mine soba," Tsuyoshi said, shaking his head, "so long as it's not plain. Otosan likes plain, but I like honey."

"You like honey in everything, you're stupid."

"I'm not stupid. You're stupid."

"No, you!"

"You!"

"Shut up," Eiji said, crossing his arms in annoyance, "excuse them, Hagos-san, their children. I'm Eiji Mishima. Fujita-san adopted me after all my family passed away. He…saved me…oh…Tokio-san, can we have oolong tea tonight?"

"I don't have any and I thought you don't like oolong?"

"Well," he coughed, looking embarrassed, "I just figured Goro-san would want some. He gets testy without his cigarettes, oolong, and soba."

Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi who were trying to best each other on the floor both rolled away from each other and stared at one another skeptically.

"I want uiro!"

"Well Okasan's going to make edamame! She promised yesterday!"

"No she didn't, Yoshi you are lying again!"

"I'm not!"

Tokio sighed, smiling apologetically at her guest, "Tsu-chan, Yoshi-chan, hush and listen to me. I did promise edamame," Tsutomu's head sank with anger as Tsuyoshi beamed triumphantly. "No uiro, you eat too many sweets as it is and as for the soba it's going to be plain. Eiji will you go get some oolong tea from a vendor? I think Maru-san's husband…hm…what's his name…well no matter. I think he sells oolong. See him first, but if not I do believe Yuki-san's brother keeps some for personal use. He might sell you some if you ask him nicely. Pay him of course," she handed over some money and Eiji, vowing to come back with arms full of tea, hurried off. "Now you two," they were wrestling again, Tsutomu complaining that Tsuyoshi always got his way because he was the youngest as Tsuyoshi complained that he was stupid. "Stop fighting. Tsu-chan clean your room. Yoshi-chan you still have to finish the assignment Yakima-san sent home the other night. School work and chores before play, go!"

"I cleaned it yesterday," Tsutomu whined as Tsuyoshi gave her his trademark sweet begging look.

"Well you did a poor job and that means you have to do it over. Get to it before I take out Goro-san beating stick. Go do your letters, Yoshi-chan."

Haruto, who'd watched that exchange between mother and children with facial expressions of incredulous, bewilderment, and amazement, sat otherwise unfazed on the zabuton. "You certainly handled that well. I wouldn't have known for the life of me what do to."

"It takes years to master it I assure you. It was however much easier with just Tsutomu, but I do love both of them dearly."

"It seems to me Eiji-kun is a family member in his own right. You treated his…feelings towards your husband kindly."

"Hm," she shrugged wearily, "Eiji-kun is more difficult for me to understand than my own children sometimes, but his heart is always in the right place. He disagrees with me a good deal of the time, but otherwise we get along well enough. He's respectful and I value that quality of his. He has always idolized my husband…sometimes….I…well I wish he didn't quite so much. I think now that he's older…he needs to pull away from his admiring of Goro and mature. In his own way he's very mature, but…he's still so young…still that boy Goro saved…he needs to find his own way in this world… He needs to stop clinging to childhood and embrace being an adult. He's almost eighteen you know. Goro's been trying to find him work…or he was when we were in Tokyo…perhaps when we return…hm…I'm sorry I'm rambling on you, Haruto-san, forgive me. My thoughts are so…scattered as of late. You said you have no family? Do you have siblings or relations of a sort?"

His face grew very dark, his brows knitting and his eyes sprinting. Tokio watched with apprehension, wondering if she'd been too blunt. She was just about to ask his forgiveness when he spoke. His face cleared of lines and his mouth and eyes softened, "A family of a sort indeed, Fujita-san, not traditional like yours but closer than friends…yet…not quite family…something dear though. If you'll excuse me," he said abruptly, "it grows late and I must be going."

"I thought you meant to stay until Goro gets done?"

"He should be home soon, no need to wait for him."

"I see…let me walk you to the door then."

"No need truly. Thank you for the tea, it was delicious. Good evening," she frowned after Haruto's departing.

* * *

She watched her husband come into the room, sliding the shoji closed and starting to undress. His hands shook as he unbuttoned his jacket and folded it. She watched in fascination, quite unaccustomed to her husband being frustrated so profoundly.

"What happened?"

He snorted, shaking his head. His hair was becoming so ill kempt. Some strands dipped pass the collar of his shirt as others blushed against his cheeks. He agitatedly swiped his hair away, fuming as he yanked his shirt off. He folded it precisely and getting too worked up to finish the buttons on his pants he shoved them down his legs and kicked them away. His kick sent his just folded jacket and shirt into the corner.

"Koishii?"

He was turned away from her, ignoring her soft pleading voice. "Just drop it," he growled.

"Please," she stood and went to his side. She grabbed his wrist and turned him around, peering up into his gaze. His jaw unclenched itself as his amber gaze turned from raging oceans to tranquil pools.

"Hard day at work with little reward," he hissed out in a tone that started out malicious and faded to annoyed exhaustion.

"I see," she rubbed his shoulders, "want a back rub? That usually helps."

He pressed the palm of his hand to her cheek before tangling his fingers in her hair. She'd let her hair down for the night just before he'd stormed into the house. "How is it you have such a calming affect on me? If I'd had you around during the Bakumatsu there was no way I'd have my reputation."

"Oh…I hope I don't calm you down too much. I wouldn't want that," she kissed his neck, "back rub time."

She worked out the knots in his back, pressed hard against his shoulder blades and spine. He sighed, rolling his neck back and forth and mumbling about how good her hands were. Quite pleased with how easy he was to melt into putty she decided to tease him a little. "So I didn't think you were so worried about me as to send one of your lackeys here to watch me. I've told you time and time again I can handle myself."

"Uh-huh," he grunted, "get my neck more and stay away from my sides. I'm ticklish."

"Oh?" She jab a finger into his right side. He flipped around and pinned her wrist against the futon, smirking down at her. "You're so ticklish. Can I tickle your feet?"

"We talked about this. What was my answer last time you asked?"

"Yes?"

"No and it's not changing anytime soon."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I hate being tickled. Tokio," he began his face becoming serious as she tried to tickle his side again. He pushed her hand away and she stopped, noting his countenance.

"What?"

"What lackey?"

"Haruto Hagos-san."

"Haruto," his face became grave, his lips pursing, his eyes turning livid. "You let him in the house?"

"Of course."

"Tokio are you stupid?" His voice came out frantic and husky, it was an emotion she'd never heard quite so pronounced in his voice before. Usually when he called anyone stupid it was teasing with a touch of mockery and very occasionally dipped in disdain. He was never like this. "Hagos? Haruto Hagos?"

"He said he use to be a part of the Shinsengumi," she nearly whispered. Fear crept into her voice, was he not the man he'd said he was?

"Hagos is the reason we came to Hokkaido, Tokio. He's the criminal the government wants to get rid of. He's been slaughtering whole legions of old Bakufu supporters and their families. He was once a member of the Shinsengumi, that's true, but lately he's decided to rebel. He leaves letters behind after the killing, detailing why he's done it. Most of the time it's because the officials he kills are corrupt money mongers, but some of the people he's killed have no relation to the Meiji. Like Nagakura. He's been targeting Shinpachi because he refused to hold a grudge against the regime in this era. He thinks its right to hate everyone related to the Meiji and by extension anyone who doesn't necessarily side against them."

"So he came here tonight to warn you?"

"Yes, but Tokio," he turned her face so it meet his full on and looked into her eyes as he spoke deliberately in a soft voice, "through association to me and Nagakura he'd kill our families. He's showed he has no quarrels with killing the Meiji's allies, he even kills infants as grotesque as that idea is."

"You think if he wanted to kill us he'd have done so tonight."

"Perhaps this was just a warning as you said…he might be giving us a chose. Side with him or the government? Damn it. You and the children should go back to Tokyo. It's a lot safer right now than being here."

"I won't―."

"Don't fight me on this. It's sensible my solution. Would you endanger the children?"

"Of course not, but I won't leave you alone―."

"Stop. It's decided. You'll take the next car―."

"Don't interrupt me! Listen, Hajime, I can cope with this. Send the children away; they are too young and innocent to be involved in this. Let me stay, don't send me away. I can help you."

"No."

"Please…"

"You can't help. He could have killed you. He could have had a sword hidden on him or a kaiken. Did you check him?"

"He had a sword, but he said he was a sword policeman."

"You can't protect yourself, Tokio, and I can't always―."

"Hajime, I have your training I can defend―," her words died when one hand grabbed her by the throat and slammed her head against the futon. Her wide eyes stared up in surprise at her husband who looked murderous.

His eyes gleamed sickly yellow as he bared his teeth down at her. "You don't understand! Stupid, stupid girl, playing deathly games! Don't you see how idiotic your fantasies are, Tokio? I could snap your pretty neck in half a heartbeat, how many times you've drawn breath right now is how many different ways I could kill you. Not only could I snap your neck in this position," his free hand grabbed her roughly by the waist, near her hips, "but I could crush your pelvis bone if I slammed you a bit harder. To add insult to injury so to speak," both of his hands seized her waist, gliding to just below her breasts, "I could break a ton of ribs. Or I could just be really nasty and brash your head into the futon again until you lose consciousness. Most of the things I just mentioned would not only hurt like hell, but would knock you out. Now if my intention had been to rape you, Hagos might you never know, I'd easily have access once you're unconscious. Making you unconscious is on a lot easier on the eardrums and keeps you from struggling, but…if his intention is to keep you awake less pressure to the ribs might be the key. One broken rib will be satisfactory as to keep you from struggling I'm sure."

He closed his eyes, becoming silent. Tokio just stared up at him in disbelief. "Do you understand? You're completely defenseless; I never taught you any moves that didn't involve you having a weapon. If he even so much as suspected you might go for the wakizashi he'd cut off your path to it. You really have no opinions in a fight against him, particularly since he's a good fighter. I never knew him back in the Shinsengumi days, but Nagakura tells me Kai knew him and Kai says Hagos isn't bad at sword arts or hand combat. Tokio…for my peace of mind in this mission…please return to Tokyo willingly and don't argue with me."

He was grateful he'd married such a sensible woman. Tokio knew better than to throw a fit. She understood the seriousness of the situation.

"I'll go. I just…want to help you. Be careful."

"I always am. Don't worry about me. Besides if I just listed off so many ways to kill you I think I can outwit Hagos. I'll make sure Nagakura or one of the trusted officers watch the house closely from now on. I was expecting he'd go after Nagakura, not us. I wasn't aware that he knew who I was. No matter, you and the kids will be out of Hokkaido once winter lets up enough to travel. The roads are too snow covered at present and the next couple weeks it will be ridiculously muddy. I think boat would be best, but this stupid region is so damn remote. Why couldn't we have been stationed closer to Sapporo? At least the capital has a telegraph."

She snuggled into his side, one hand tracing white scar lines across his torso. He was surprisingly less scar ridden than most would suspect, but that was just because he was so good at avoiding injury. She pressed her lips to his chest, the arm looped around his waist tightening.

"I'll miss you."

"Hm."

"Are you going to say it back?"

"Do I have to?"

"It's polite."

"Humph."

"Hajime, you're an ass."

"I'm tired."

She rolled away from him and crossed her arms. Staring into the darkened chamber she found her eyes focusing on the vague outlines of furniture in the room. One shadow flickered from outside and something rattled against the shoji. Saito's arm slide around her waist and his head nestled into her shoulder.

"The noise is a low tree branch hitting the shoji," he confirmed. He pressed a few languid kisses to her neck and cheek. "I suppose I'll miss you too." She smiled, clasping his warm hand in hers, "Unless you persist in being so obnoxious," he taunted with a devious smirk. Why did she have the bad luck of having 'accidentally' married the most insufferable man in Japan?

* * *

Japanese Words To Know This Chapter:

Edamame-baby soybeans soaked in salt

Kasuteria-tea cakes

Jules Brunet-a French officer who was stationed in Japan to help modernize the Shogunate army. He arrived in Yokohama in 1867. He was present at Toba Fushimi and went with the Shogunate forces to Hokkaido. France, declaring itself neutral in the Boshin Wars, demanded all troops withdraw from Japan. Jules resigned and stayed in Hokkaido to help the Bakufu army. He helped build the Republic of Ezo (this was the name the Shogunate forces took after they arrived in Hokkaido and planned their independence) and actually knew Hijikata, who he said would have been a general if he'd been born in Europe.

I just felt the need to give a shout out to Brunet, who seemed like he was a really good person. I mean he'd have to be if he quit his office and stayed to fight with the Japanese. Anyway R&R.


	47. Chapter 47: Hokkaido, 1882, Part 3

Saito bite down a little on his cigarette, glaring at the darkening sky. Another wasted night of searching. He let his gaze roam over the troop under his command. Brunet and Nagakura were laughing and some of the officers were fidgeting, casting glances towards the city, longing for their homes evident on their faces. He blew out smoke, glancing at Mt. Tengu. The mountain seemed to ignore him, not aware that he was justice and that Hagos was the enemy, only aware that men trespassed on its snowy peaks.

He gave a signal that only Nagakura would recognize. Nagakura saw it and smiling to the men said, "The night grows dark and finding Hagos-san today seems unlikely. Take a good night's rest and report back the same time tomorrow."

He nodded his head in agreement when some officers looked for his approval. He waited until most of them had gone before waving Nagakura over. "What?" Asked Nagakura, tilting his head and grinning in that leering way of his.

"Is your family protected?"

"I have five officers, one for each family member. You can't be too safe…How many officers do you have?"

"One."

"For your whole family?"

"Kai-san."

"Oh… When did you talk to Kai-kun?"

"He came by from Kyoto, something about hearing we were both here, he wasn't quite sure about why we were in Hokkaido together but I filled him in before work. I haven't seen him since shortly before the Battle of Aizu. He went with Hijikata-sama to Sendai and onto Hokkaido."

"Man I've missed Kai-kun, we were so…we were like this," here Nagakura twisted his index finger around his pointer finger. "I can't wait to see him. Is he staying at your place? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I knew you'd lose any sense you normally process if I told you earlier. I needed you head clear in case we found him. That not being the case…why don't you join us for sake tonight, Shinpachi-san?"

"I'm damn surprised your asking, Saito-kun, way to be social."

"Don't make me regret it instantly. Just don't make a mess and I won't have Tokio-san use the wakizashi on you and Kai-san."

Nagakura laughed while shrugging.

* * *

"Kai-san," Tokio called from the kitchen, "you like rice balls?"

"Very much, Fujita-san…so how come you married old Hajime-kun anyway? He isn't exactly a peach," Kai was settled on the zabuton, the tea before him untouched. Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi were watching him with wide eyed stares, clasping their hands over their mouths and muttering childish nonsense to each other. Eiji just rolled his eyes when he heard snatches of their conversation.

"Actually I like my rice balls stuffed with bean paste. I decided after years of eating bean filled rice cakes that I'd make my own special paste. Every one besides me can't stand them though; they're always saying there is too much sugar in them." He laughed, rubbing a hand across his bald head.

Tokio gave her sons' disapproving looks at their ill manners and smiling at her husband's old comrade said, "I'm glad you came to Hokkaido."

"So am I. I do have a preference for Kyoto, but I figure a few weeks away aren't going to change old Kyoto too much. Not much can damage that city…even the bloody Bakumatsu didn't do more than leave a scratch," he smiled, noticing the children's wide eyed stares. "Some thing wrong with your kids, Fujita-san? Why you staring at me like that, little one?" Kai asked, leaning closer to Tsutomu. The boy shook, glancing around nervously.

Tsuyoshi hide behind Eiji, mumbling incoherently, "Oi, Tsu, giant's going to eat you, watch out!"

"Enough with your nonsense you two, Kai-san here is an old friend of your Otosan, behave or you're going to your rooms."

"But he's scary," Tsutomu said, finding his voice suddenly, "he's so big and creepy, like an ogre."

"Ogre eh? I've not heard that one yet. I'm just tall, kids. Your Otosan is tall, isn't he?"

"Su'pose so," Tsuyoshi agreed, "You taller than him?"

"Hm…you know what…I don't know. Never thought about it. I think we're close in height though. Of course," here he patted his belly with vigor, smirking, "Your Otosan isn't as hefty as I am. I probably weigh a good fifty pounds more."

"Do we have sake," Saito, who'd entered while everyone had been preoccupied, asked.

"I think so. Let me go check. Oh, evening Shinpachi-san."

"Evenin', Fujita-san," Nagakura nodded to her and turned his gaze to his much taller friend, "Long time no see ogre."

"Oh yes tease the guest, how generous of you, Shinpachi-kun. So we are having some sake together, hm, just like the old times?"

Saito sat on the zabuton Tokio had been using. Nagakura came over and slung an arm around Kai's shoulder. Saito looked to his children, "Go to your rooms. The adults have business to discuss."

Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi ran out of the room, complaining about an ogre. Eiji came back with the tea and Tokio helped him put it away before dismissing him as well.

"Really now Kai-kun I swear you gained an inch and sixty pounds since I saw you last. Way to put on a tummy, man."

"I can still kick your ass."

"Not with that weight slowing you down, you can't."

"Want to prove it?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Imbeciles," Saito spat out as the two grown men began a fist fight. Tokio rolled her eyes when she returned with the sake and rice balls. "Good thing I sent the children to their rooms."

"Good thing indeed," she agreed, "sake?"

"Hm," he held up his cup as she poured. The sake cup pressed to his lips he lowered his eyelashes and sipped slowly. The liquid was room temperature, but of a good quality and went down smoothly. He glanced into the clear liquid as he lowered his glass, smiling oddly in sincerity. There was little more enjoyable than good sake…well…perhaps having Tokio…sake came second and than the children…oh killing before children and than the brats. Tokio, sake, killing, and kids…prefect combination to make him happy, well perhaps without the children, he mused sardonically, remembered their ill manners. Really he needed to teach them properly; clearly Tokio was not doing it well enough. A good beating would instill the lesson much better than Tokio's well intended words.

Nagakura and Kai settled down when they realized Tokio had returned with the sake. Pouring their cups full Tokio smiled like a perfect host and asked them how they liked it. Nagakura said it was some of the best he'd had and Kai praised everything from the moon to the sun.

A yelp was heard from the boys' room and the shoji was slid open and closed after a blur whizzed out. Hachiko came running down the corridor, he was not as slim and as swift as he use to be and nearly took a tumble. He settled by Tokio so she could stroke his head and rub behind his ears.

After a fashion Nagakura started to talk about his family, mentioning Miki and his children. Kai rolled his eyes, declaring his surprise that everyone was up and married nowadays.

"And they say a Miburo can't be tamed," Kai drawled, "Hijikata-san would be rolling in his grave to hear about our lives, buddies, and Kondo would be laughing so hard I tell you he'd die all over again. Saito-kun how did you meet Tokio?"

Finishing off his seventh cup he snored at Kai's words and explained the story of their meeting again. "How'd you meet Okaki-san again?"

"Don't you remember her? Oh I suppose not, you never have paid any attention to the lives of your comrades. I married Okaki back when we were in the Shinsengumi."

"I remember her, lovely as a flower and shorter than Tokio here. What was she? About four feet," Nagakura laughed, slurping his sake, "Can't believe you married her. I was all 'why would she marry you, you're more then ten years her senior' at the wedding. Don't you remember, Saito-kun, you were at the wedding with us. Hijikata, Kondo, Sano, Heisuke…everyone was there pretty much, expect Okita was sick and couldn't make it."

"I remember now. It was in August and it was 1865. It started raining just after the ceremony and I went to see Okita after wards."

"Okaki's still beautiful," Kai grinned, raising his cup to his wife and downing it.

He was starting to feel lightheaded and talk was turning into gibberish. Tokio was politely refilling cups and providing some semi-balance of decent conversation. Nagakura and Kai if left to their own devices would have slipped into fifthly, half funny banter, but since a woman was in the room they were keeping their language free of obscenities. Nagakura questioned Tokio about her half empty cup and she told him bluntly that she wasn't one for drink.

It wasn't long before Nagakura, realizing how late it was, said he had to get home to Miki. Kai volunteered to walk him home, saying he was afraid to leave the other man unattended and the two left, talking as they walked out about times where a drunken Nagakura had done stupid things when left alone.

He glanced at his wife and gestured to his cup. She refilled it with all the grace she rarely showed. Her pale wrists were more delicate and sensual than that of a geisha's at their art, her neck, accented by the blue and white collar, was straight and milky smooth. Her petite body was formless in her kimono, but he knew of the beautiful plentiful curves underneath the silk. The light twinkled in her expressive eyes was unabashedly gentle and her smile was pleasing. She was a welcoming sight from the cold snowy mountain he'd sent all day on.

"Tokio?" A sudden thought occurred to him as he watched her. "Have you ever been drunk in front of me?"

"No. I don't drink."

He raised a brow, "I'm sure you're a fine drunk. Here," he held his cup out to her but she shook her head. "Come on, Tokio, drink some."

"I'd rather not."

"Please?"

"You're begging me to drink sake, do you know how strange this is?"

"Very, now drink," he pressed the cup to her lips. Sighing she tipped it back and drank. She coughed, pushed the cup away, and wiped at her mouth were some sake was dripping on her chin. He admired her delicate nature for a moment before putting the cup to her lips again.

"I don't want anymore."

"You act as if you've never drank before. Have some more, you're far from drunk."

"A wife's duty is to pour the sake not empty the cups, koishii." He gazed at her modest look in bewilderment and realized she really had never gotten drunk.

"You've never had sake?"

"Of course I have. At our marriage, you were there. My mother also occasionally gave me sips when I was younger and my brother and I use to take the almost empty jugs and drink the last few drops."

"But you've never been inebriated?"

"No…Is that so strange?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think it is a manly enterprise that usually just leads to brawls and besides what husband wants a wife who can out drink him?"

"You think you can out drink me?"

"I've seen you drink, Hajime, you're horribly good at consuming a ton of sake so probably not."

He smiled, "The compliant is pleasing, but I do think it would please me even more to be the first to see you drunk. Drink some."

"No."

"Tokio―."

"You can't convince me."

"I'll make it worth your while," he whispered in that low tone of his, arching an eyebrow. "Also haven't you ever wondered on the allure of sake? Why so many men and women drink it? Try some and you will see."

She rolled her eyes, "You must really have drunk too much tonight. Let's get you to bed."

"If you don't get inebriated…I'll…hm…I'll…divorce you."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"Have fun with that then," she went to rise just as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms. He smiled, saying, "I won't let you go to sleep if you don't."

She pushed at his arms but he tightened his hold. She relaxed after awhile, "You're an asshole, but if drinking a little sake will appease you."

She took the cup from his callused hands and gulped it down. The sake went down smoothly, almost like water and didn't burn as bad as she'd expected it would. It was definitely better than the sake her parents had brought. That was good though as she'd paid an exceptional price for her husband's sake.

He grinned maliciously, trailing kissed on her neck as she finished off the cup. He filled the jug for her, grinning at her as she reluctantly drank more. After several cups he noticed her words became hastier and the conversation turned to random subjects. Tokio seemed particularly fond of cuddling when she was drunk and nipping at his ear playfully.

She mumbled some erotic futon things in his ear which made him grin. Tokio was certainly a crazy drunk. Perhaps he'd get her drunk occasionally, it might be extremely fun.

* * *

Saito glared at Mt. Tengu, crossed his arms, huffed angrily, muttered some rapid curses, and turned on his heel. His men watched him in surprise and the smarter men looked on in fear. "Goro-san," Nagakura began, but he shook his head roughly, silencing his comrade. He needed a moment to compose himself. Nagakura knew that.

He paced the short span between two houses, glancing at Mt. Tengu with a thoughtful expression. His sudden voice caused several men to jump and one nearly tripped as he turned around sharply to face his superior. "Have we searched every inch? Surely he's there. No one in Otaru would house this criminal, would they? Yet if someone is we can't go knock on all the doors, can we? Ikariya and Aikawa go the station and look up the records of all the criminals in Otaru. When that is done meet Kanata and Takahito at Fujiwara district. Nagakura-san come with me. The rest of you patrol the city and report back every hour to the station. Any suspicious behavior is to be reported immediately. That is all for now. Kanata and Takahito a moment before you go."

Nagakura watched Saito talk to the two men before they took off at a jog. "What are you doing? You've been saying yourself you don't think he'll be in the city and yet you're going to search all of Otaru?"

"Let me explain. I want Hagos to think we've given up on Mt. Tengu. That way he'll think it's safer for him to move more freely up in the caves. I'm luring him from his den. You and I will go up to Tengu and search the most likely areas. After a few days he should be less cautious, he seemed arrogant, don't you think?"

"Going to your home in the middle of the day right before you're about to return? I'd say that's foolhardy."

"That's what I've been thinking. Either he's completely foolish or arrogant. I like to think the latter, but I'm starting to doubt it's either of these. I think he just doesn't care. I don't think he'll let us capture him; he's like a fanatic, Nagakura, a fanatic with a mission whose only aim is to get his goal done with before being caught. I think once he's caught after the deed he'll come willingly. It's his aim I'm so concerned with, yet I can't understand his actions. What is his reasoning?"

"Only madmen understand the logic behind mad actions."

"It would seem so."

"We wait it out then?"

"Yes."

"I hate waiting."

"Just don't throw that snowball at me and we won't have any problems."

"Damn you're perceptive," Nagakura threw the snowball at the back of Hajime's head and ran for his life towards Mt. Tengu.

* * *

Saito cramped his hands into his pockets and grabbed out his cigarettes and matches. He slowed down his walk; he had some time before he had to get to the school to pick up his rowdy brats. He inhaled and exhaled, watching the smoke blow away before his face. Some kids passed him on the street, laughing and throwing snowballs. He watched them cautiously as he passed, giving them death glares if they even so much as looked at him. He was not in the mood to get hit with a damn snowball. Twenty days. Twenty damn days of waiting and searching. Hagos had apparently been smarter than he'd anticipated. He'd not once gone out of his hole in the mountain.

He flicked the ash away, glancing around the small market area he'd landed in.

"Fish for sale. Good fish from the Sea of Japan! Try a little, it's delicious!"

"Tofu! Tofu is a sample you just can't pass up!"

"Rice! Brown, white, whatever you're want we have the best rice in Hokkaido I promise!"

Passing all the food stands he came upon the artist, clothing, and jewelry sellers.

"Fine silk fit for a wife," a young girl passed her wares near him as he strolled by, "Softer than a baby's bottom I assure you, won't your wife want a new ribbon?"

He paused a moment, staring at the dark blue ribbon the woman held. She smiled and held it out for him to touch. He ran a hand over the silk and asked, "How much?"

Tokio's birthday was in a few months after all and he'd probably have to buy her something now because she would be gone before April.

"Not much, hardly more than the spare yen you keep on you," she led him to the stall and set the one she'd been holding down. The prices weren't half bad, but the quality wasn't up to Tokyo's snuff. Perhaps a ribbon wasn't a great birthday present. It seemed like a cheap gift and after all the nice gifts she'd gotten him over the years he didn't want to hurt her feelings by buying her a half thought out gift.

"Not what I'm really looking for," she tried to stop him but he pressed on.

"Jewelry, gems of all kinds in rings of all sizes, gold and silver lockets for your sweetheart and more fashionable bira bira for the traditional wife!"

He paused at the jewelry stall, taking a drag as he looked over the merchandise and noticing the outrageous prices he rolled his eyes before marching on. No way was he going to spent five thousand yen on a little trinket.

He checked his pocket watch, noting it was almost time to pick up the children. Stuffing it away and snubbing out his half smoked cigarette he hurried down the street to the school.

He came to a grinding halt just outside the school, staring at the man who was talking to his sons. Hagos was knelt down to Tsuyoshi's level and laughing at something his son had just said. "Snake head," Tsutomu said, "look who came to the school to see us! Hagos-san said he'd take us to the candy store!"

"Can I get a uiro from the candy store," Tsuyoshi asked, smiling as Hagos patted his head and rose to his full height. Saito narrowed his eyes at the man before him, aware that his body was stiff with anger and that he just barely kept his fists from clenching at his sides.

"Tsutomu, why don't you go stand by your Otosan, hm?"

Tsutomu grinned widely as Hagos gave him a little shove. The boy ran into his leg, smiling up at him, not understanding the strange look on his face when he glanced up. He put one hand on his elder son's shoulder, squeezing it painfully tight to reassure himself that he was unharmed. His son squirmed and winced under his pressure. The soft whining noise Tsutomu made snapped him back to reality. Letting go of his cub's shoulder he ruffled the boy's hair. He didn't glance at Tsutomu, just keep his gaze steadily on Hagos, knowing full well that if Hagos made even the slightest move to hurt Tsuyoshi he'd ripped him limb from limb.

"Don't be so tense, Fujita-san," Hagos said, smirking deviously. "My intentions by stopping by today are purely pacific. We are in a crowd so really I'd be a fool to do anything rash."

Hagos glanced around and smiled at someone before nodding at another. Parents or relations were picking up their young ones and taking them home. Teachers were greeting adults with disciplinary issues or praise. His gaze never left Hagos even as his surroundings sunk in full force. Right, only a man who was stupid, and Hagos wasn't, would risk attacking in front of a crowded school yard.

Still he didn't relax or let his guard down, that lesson had been embedded in him after seeing too many beginning swordsmen die from it. Tsuyoshi's life depended on his vigilance. He had not failed his family yet and he wouldn't now.

"Your intention," he bit out, nearly growling deep in his throat.

"My intention," Hagos smiled, giving Tsuyoshi a firm rub on the head. The boy became annoyed and indignantly patted his hair down. "My intention towards you and your family is quite different than my intentions toward Nagakura-san's family. You, who play the docile dog in front of the Meiji loyalist, are really a vicious Miburo. You work tirelessly to send them to their ruin. You I respect immensely, your old comrade not so much. Nagakura-san has settled down in this era and tried to forget all the wrongs the government has done. I can't," his eyes blazed with fanatical passion as he raised his voice. "I won't forgive their evils and I can't just sit by and say, 'oh well…' to their new evil either. You understand me! You understand how corrupt they are, how much they need to be taught the value of life! I'm teaching them this lesson."

"So by killing their loved one's your teaching them the value of life?" Closing his eyes images of mothers holding crying babies, just married wives, young sons and daughters…all begging for their lives as Hagos stood over them about to deliver his 'justice'. "I don't understand you and I'm damn grateful I don't or else I'd be as monstrous as you." He glanced at Tsuyoshi who stood looking up at him with big eyes, so young and tender. "I can't for the live of me understand killing innocents. For all the Meiji supporters you killed I do…but no I don't understand the necessity in taking their loved ones lives also."

"They taint their families by association. They distort their values and deluge their thinking, giving them unsavory sympathies with the Meiji among other things. They deserve death just as much as their husbands and fathers."

"Bullshit." This man sure had a grotesque way of thinking. He would have never thought that by signing up to join the police force he would have endangered his family so. Sure he'd anticipated revenge killings to hurt him emotionally, but not this kind of farce. This folly was beyond his comprehension. "So I taint my family?"

"We taint everyone we meet."

"Hm? So by association as you say Nagakura and the government are tainting you as well? You should go kill yourself if that's the case."

"Pffh, prolonged exposure is much more dangerous than mere minutes."

"So you say."

"You're being crude," Hagos snapped out, eyes lowering the boy who was shifting his weight back and forth next to him. Hagos' hand had fallen onto Tsuyoshi's thin shoulders minutes ago, making him apprehensive and Tsuyoshi uncomfortable. "Don't you care for his life?" His eyes flashed mirthlessly, blank pools of judgment.

"Beyond reason," he muttered in a husky voice, "but speaking my mind is important. I'd rather not kill you if I can prevent it, you're an intelligent man, you're just misguided."

"Oh so you want to turn me in, hm? Hand me over instead of kill me? How noble, but a revolting idea to me. I want to die after I finish what I've started, the government will just torture me for information and then kill me."

"What information could you possibly have that would appeal to the government?"

"More than you realize, Fujita-san," he smiled sharply, "I think this conversation is long pass it's ending." His hand released Tsuyoshi's shoulder and the boy, giving the tall man a hard look, ran off to his father and brother.

"He squeezes too hard," Tsuyoshi whined, buried his head securely into the bottom of his pant leg. He watched Hagos smile once more before disappearing into the thinning crowd.

He wondered briefly if anyone had eavesdropped on their conversation, but doubted it. People were too preoccupied with their own affairs and getting out of the school yard as fast as they could. It was an added security too that Hagos had chosen the less crowded end and few had been close enough to hear their exchange. Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi wouldn't remember a word, they were too young even to comprehend the danger they had been in.

He knelt down to their level. He pressed a firm hand to Tsutomu's hair to keep it down, tucked on Tsuyoshi's obi until it was straight instead of crooked, smoothed out the wrinkles in his own kimono, and grabbing their hands shepherd them out the school yard as if nothing of consequence had just happened. He was wondering as the boys' begged to stop at the candy store if he'd have it in him to kill a child. He didn't think so. He supposed that was the main difference between himself and Hagos. He hadn't completely lost his humanity. He told his children yes to the candy shop as he placed the fault onto Tokio and his sons' for his humanity. Not completely their fault, he had morals, but they kept him sane anyway.


	48. Chapter 48: Hokkaido, 1882, Part 4

The place wasn't much, he noticed, nothing more then wood, thatching, and a door that creaked on its hinges in the wind. To the inhabitants it was probably home. The idea to live at the base of a snow covered mountain repulsed him, but he assumed to some people it had appeal. Icicles, mad hermits, cavemen. Or Ainu, he mused, that was probably what they'd find, but maybe Hagos if they were lucky.

He marched forward, the icy breath of the mountain chilling his sore muscles. Trudging all day through snow banks was tiresome even for someone as physically strong as him. His small group of men consisted of Nagakura, Ikariya, Aikawa, Kanata, and Takahito.

He knocked and listened to the shuffling of feet on the ground. The noisy footsteps and hushed whispering from inside was a dead give away that it was two individuals. A gruff male's baritone mingled with a soft speaking female one. Both spoke Ainu. He grunted in annoyance, they hadn't brought a translator with because they hadn't inspected to find Ainu in Otaru.

The man who opened the door was only slightly shorter than him, probably about five feet six inches. He had neatly combed brown hair that fell to his shoulders and a well kept beard. His brown eyes stared in wonderment at him and then at his companions before redirecting back to him. The man's features were Japanese. A bit surprised by this he cleared his throat and resolved himself. It made little difference that he was Japanese and not Ainu, though it did spare them the necessity of getting a translator.

"Perhaps you could help us. You're Japanese, correct?"

The man's incredulous wide eyes narrowed a faction at him, hesitation and suspicion passing over his nondescript face. "Yes. What do you strangers need? Why are you up here?"

They'd come up a long track of powdery white snow, further on this road then they'd done previously, and then up a narrow ledge to get here. Having found this shack when they'd passed a large jutting of the cliff face they'd been surprised. Some tea would be nice, he mused, if they had any to spare but he doubted they had enough to keep themselves even. He wasn't about to starve some people for tea and kasuteria.

"We're looking for a man, about my height, brown hair and eyes, muscular, and in his early forties. Have you seen him wondering the mountain?"

"No, no one ever comes up here, not from down there," he grumbled, glancing behind them at the darkening sky, "weather isn't good; it will get worse and snowstorm. You should leave the mountain before it starts. I know a quick path."

Saito smoked a cigarette as the man gave the details to Nagakura and him. The other men cuddled close shivering. He glanced behind the man into the house. The place was bare with only a small rickety table and two chairs. He heard the soft humming of a woman inside. He thought of how Tokio hummed when doing menial labor. The woman passed the doorway, lingering a moment when she saw all the men.

Her brown hair that was almost blond and the green eyes staring out of her pale face were acutely Ainu features. Most Ainu had mixed Japanese, Russian, and occasionally northern European ancestors.

He had never met a person with green eyes. He knew plenty of brown eyed people, it was a distinct Japanese characteristic, and he'd seen one or two blue eyed people, but green was fascinatingly different. He stared a few seconds longer at her than was necessity before shrugging lightly and putting out his cigarette. Better comb this area a bit more thoroughly before heading back home. The man was right about the weather, better not to linger too long in the mountains when a snowstorm could strike at any time.

* * *

Saito blew out smoke, watching how it drifted into the night air and dispersed in all directions. He threw a glance at the house before him, tall, silent, and dark. All the inhabitants had turned to sleep not an hour ago.

Takahito was fidgeting, casting looks to the house and back to him, waiting for the signal for action with growing impatience. He was as restless as Takahito on the inside; on the outside he was calmly smoking, looking bored and lazy like a good pedestrian waiting to meet someone.

Kanata appeared from a side street as they had prearranged. He hung back a second, looking around the road, hands crammed into the sleeves of his navy kimono. He feigned surprise at seeing them on the side of the road, waved casually, and strolled over.

All three men bowed to each other.

"Fujita-san," Kanata said stiffly.

"Kanata-san."

"Kanata-san," Takahito quipped, his expression like that of Tsumotu or Tsuyoshi when they felt left out. He was a child.

"Takahito-san."

He coughed abruptly, "enough with the greetings. How is the other side of the house? Did Ikariya-san say?"

"Dark as night."

"Good. Takahito-san," the man perked up at being addressed. "Stay here with Kanata-san as our watchmen. He's enough sense to blow his whistle if the alarm is required. You on the other hand would just be a hindrance if I brought you with and this way I have someone to do the job you'll forget to do when the time arises. I'm going inside with Ikariya-san and Aikawa-san."

Walking away he heard Takahito's whining. "He never lets me do anything, grr…so frustrating…how come I never get to do anything, Kanata-san?"

"He just doesn't trust you yet, you're new and young so he doesn't think you're up to bigger tasks. Just let it go for now, hm? Prove you can do these little assignments and eventually you'll get to the more interesting work."

"Oh right like you..." Kanata laughed nervously at that slight. He was grateful that he'd paired up the reckless, inexperienced Takahito with the moderate thorough Kanata. Kanata mellowed Takahito and Takahito inspired bravery in the usually meek Kanata. They played off each other well and with time both would learn from each other. Ikariya and Aikawa were both older officers, Ikariya talkative were Aikawa was quiet. Both had the experience Takahito was missing and the confidence Kanata lacked. There was a good reason why he depended on Ikariya and Aikawa more than the other two. Perhaps in five or ten years he could count on Takahito and Kanata.

He heard no more of the conversation as he reached the shoji, opened it almost inaudibly, and slipped quietly inside. The air in the building was mildly chilly and still, unlike outside where it was bitingly cold and windy. He'd hoped it was warmer in here and stifling his disappointment he rounded a corner.

He slide the appropriate shoji open and waved to the dark shadows swirling outside. Some dust shifted, air moved, and taps against the pavement reached his ears. It was too faint for anyone inside to hear, he only noticed it because he'd been looking for it. Ikariya greeted him with a smile as he tip toed past, hand lightly on his hilt. Aikawa looked grave as a ghost as he appeared like an apparition. He shut the shoji and turned back to the men. Waving in the direction of the rooms they started forward.

He could hear Ikariya's heavy breathing, Aikawa's katana rattling in his hostler, the trudge of Ikariya's tip toeing and Aikawa's slow gliding steps. He stopped, turning to face his companions with a fierce look.

"Stop breathing so heavy, Ikariya-san. Fix your hostler, Aikawa-san. And for kami sake please step lighter. I thought you two were good at sneaking around?"

"We're the best in Otaru," Ikariya piped out in a half whisper.

He groaned, Ikariya's comment was cause to add him to his growing list of imbeciles in Otaru. Biting back a retort he just turned back and crept forward. He mused that all his spying skills he'd learned from Susumu was the reason he was superior then the other officers. None of them had trained with Susumu Yamazaki like he had. He'd always enjoyed training with Susumu because the man used a unique ryu and was quite proficient with a nagamaki

He stopped at the four shoji to the right and gesturing for Aikawa and Ikariya to flank him he flung the shoji open. The noise of it smacking onto the wood should have been enough to awake the inhabitants. No one stirred from their futons.

"Otaru Police," Ikariya yelled, kicking a futon. Pillows and blankets hit the bare tatami as his feet pivoted him around full circle and he raced back down the corridor. He heard Aikawa yelling after him and their footsteps thumping on the floor as they followed. He leapt out the open shoji and stopped short. His breathing was heavy as his eyes met the sight he'd hoped he might have prevented. He'd failed…shit.

Takahito was lying in the open street, his sword only half drawn before he'd been maimed by the people fleeing the building. Kanata had been luckier, his katana was drawn and he'd probably had a chance to defend himself. He had three wounds in the back, all from different angles and likely delivered from different people. His feet, invisible to his eyes because of the darkness, lay in an alleyway whereas his torso, arms, and head peeked out into the street.

He approached slowly as limbs, heads, and little more than the tattered remains of the Shinsengumi haori flashed behind his eye lids. It had been a long time since he'd seen so many bodies of his comrades. It had been a long time since he'd let others join his fight. Even fighting alongside his old enemy the Battousai had been with reservation, he cared little for the manslayer but he'd at least had no fear of the man's dying.

He shouldn't have been so foolish as to leave these two alone. He should have been there to help them fend off their attackers. He should have used his Gatotsu on the bastards and the boys should have gone home peacefully to their futons after another long day of work. They would have no more long days of work where they grumbled about his strictness. Their lives were over. Even he couldn't bring back the dead.

He bowed his head stiffly, "Ikariya-san report to the station. Tell them Tatsuo Takahito and Hikaru Kanata-san are dead."

Ikariya didn't say anything, just hurried from the scene of his friends' deaths. Aikawa was behind him still, staring at their bodies. He turned his head away, saying, "You look too long, Fujita-san, and their faces will haunt you."

"I'm already haunted by spirits. What's two more?" He captured Takahito's facial expression of ghastly shock, his hand outstretched at an odd angle, his forehead covered in hair because his knot had fallen loose. His eyes were wide, staring at him with his last emotion; confusion. He stepped closer to Kanata's corpse as he spoke. "Go home tonight Aikawa-san, take the quickest route and stay put until tomorrow. Oh and check on Nagakura-san's family on your way home." He didn't say he was anxious for Nagakura's family, but he was.

He waited until he no longer heard Aikawa's footsteps. He reached over, placed a tension taunt hand on Kanata's shoulder and flipped him over. His face was sweaty from panic and exertion, his hands white around the hilt of his katana, his lips cracked and parted. His eyes though would haunt him, just like the eyes of his Shinsengumi comrades did. His eyes were wide with feat at the last moment of his life and despite the fact that he'd been dead for a few minutes his eyes still seem to retain a last remnant of flame. A fire that had longed to survive. It was a shame when someone who so longed for life had his stuffed out so carelessly.

Takahito's body was easier to face, he thought as he stood, if only for the fact that he hadn't had time to realize the situation as clearly as Kanata had. The smell of their coppery blood was heavy in the air, plugging up his nostrils with their revolting smell. He wouldn't ever tell anyone, but he disliked the smell of blood. He raised the hand that had touched Kanata's shoulder, a sticky red that would dry quickly to a dark spot and rubbed it off on a part of Takahito's unstained uniform. He wondered briefly as he stood if Takahito would have been insulted at being used as a cleaning tool.

He heard footsteps approaching and turned his head in the direction. He would make sure no one else in his command or otherwise died. Hagos would pay for taking the lives of two of his officers and whoever had helped him.

* * *

"I don't want to wear it!"

"You're wearing it and I won't hear any more complaints."

"No!" He threw the garment away, "It's itchy."

"We have to go to the funeral, now wear it."

"No!"

"If he's not wearing his I'm not wearing mine," chirped Tsuyoshi, standing near the porch.

"You're wearing you're kimono and he's going to wear his, Yoshi-chan. Get dressed or no uiro for a month."

"You wouldn't."

"Tsutomu," mother and son both turned to stare. He was leaning near the shoji that lead to the outside, smoking a cigarette and waiting for his eldest to get ready, "put the damn kimono on and let's go."

Tsutomu hesitated, glancing between his parents. He could sometimes win arguments against his mother, but never against his father. "Yes, Otosan," he said and disappeared to his room to change.

Tokio shook her head, "Tell me how you do that?"

"Authority and discipline. You show an air of authority, Tokio, but you never back it up with discipline."

"Have you been beating them again?" He just took a drag on his cigarette, "You know I don't approve of physical punishments."

"They are much more efficient. The children don't believe you'll actually deprive them of their sweets and things. Remember that time where you told Tsutomu he wouldn't be let outside for a week but for school? Well what did you do when you caught him staring longingly out the shoji? You let him out."

"That was one time."

"That one time was enough."

She sighed, "Stop beating them."

"Humph."

"I mean it, Goro. Yoshi-chan, has your otosan been hitting you and Tsu-chan when you do bad things?"

Tsuyoshi looked nervous, glancing between the warring giants that were his parents. He caught sight of Tsutomu coming back after changing and dragged his brother outside without responding to her. She heard him say to his brother, "Okasan's scary when she looks like that, but Otosan is worse."

"Yeah he hits."

She gave her husband a dark look as they left the house. He ignored her and puffed leisurely on his cigarette. Sometimes her husband was an asshole. Intentionally too. Bastard.

"Don't be angry, Tokio, that my methods beat yours," he smirked at her as she scowled.

"Humph."

Takahito had a large family. He had three sisters and a brother. His sisters wept and moaned by turns and his brother, hardly fifteen cried into his mother's side. His mother cried through out the funeral, her rosaries clasped in trembling hands. Takahito's father was silent, no tears came from his eyes, but there was a grave sobriety about him that didn't seem right. No doubt he was in as much pain as his wife, but being the husband he kept up a good face of composure in public.

They stood off to the side, Tokio holding Tsutomu's hand and Tsuyoshi cradled against her side.

"Why are they crying, okasan?" Asked their youngest, looking up at her with his father's frank gold eyes, but unlike his father's too. They didn't process the viciousness and worldly air that was inherent in her husbands.

She touched his hair, feeling a stirring of worry. How did one explain to an innocent child the gravity of death? Should she just say Takahito and Kanata had gone on a long trip of some sort? Should she lie and say they were well somewhere else? It felt wrong to lie to him, but he just wasn't old enough to understand yet.

"Takahito-san and Kanata-san are gone. You can't ever see them again, Tsuyoshi." They both glanced at Saito who was staring at the gravestone. Tatsuo Fujiwara Takahito, born July eighteenth 1860. So he'd been twenty two, younger than Saito had expected.

"Like that rat behind the school," Tsutomu said, his voice wavering as tears came to his eyes. "Remember the rat that dug those holes behind the school? One day he never came back and teacher said when I asked him that the rat was gone forever. Does that mean the nice man who played with us is gone forever too?"

She grabbed him and held him close as he cried. Tsuyoshi started crying too when he realized that Takahito wasn't coming back. Takahito had only come to the house twice and those times were only to get her husband. He'd played with the children for only a handful of moments before Saito had walked out the door with him.

Watching her little sons' cry she wondered briefly if they understood death better than she'd thought they did. No one they knew personally, like a family member or friend, had died in their short lives, but they seemed to understand Takahito wasn't ever going to play with them again and even though they hadn't really known him they showed more sympathy than most people showed those they'd known longer.

* * *

Kanata's family members were much fewer when they visited his three days later. His father had died four years ago from some disease. His mother, short, gray haired and weeping was a sad sight. She bemoaned her last sons' lost, telling all who would hear of her misfortunate, two son's dead, one from war and one from his occupancy. His youngest sister, a geisha who lived in Kyoto, was admonished loudly by her mother for not attending. His elder sister was weeping profusely, clenching her husband's arm and saying he was the brother she liked best and that he had often taken her to the market on his days off.

Saito stood calmly, watching the funeral in silence. Tokio stood behind him, children in tow, waiting for her husband to act. He looked grave, his lips pursed, his eyes darting perhaps a bit too sharply around the room. Had the deaths of these two men taken a toll on her husband? She wondered if their passing would haunt him because he had failed in protecting them as their superior or because he genuinely mourned them as people. Perhaps a bit of both.

After a time they passed incense in front of Kanata's body and gave their koden. They left before the funeral was over, taking a short route home, walking through the market. She spotted a loaf of bread in the window of the bakery and halted their march home to go inside. She told the woman at the counter what she wanted and as the woman fetched it off the shelve she asked, "I hear there was a funeral for some dead officers? Is that true? Did you come from there? I think the man who's standing outside the window, there see the tall dark haired fellow, is an officer, I've seen him around in his uniform."

"He's my husband. His name is Goro and I'm Tokio."

"Ah," the woman eyes looked at her sharply before she handed her the loaf. "Here ya go."

"Thank you."

"Oh and might I inquir―." Here she fumbled on her words and fell silent. A tall man dressed in a baker's apron appeared from a side door with some bread. He came forward, shooing his wife from the room with unnecessary venom. He eyed her suspiciously, his dark eyes racking over her frame with uneasy. She saw the quick nervous glance he threw at Saito outside. Her husband had his back to them and was preoccupied with something Tsutomu was whining about. She assumed he was merely nervous around her husband, he was an officer and he did inspire a sense of half awed, half fearful respect.

"Got what you need then? Move on will ya and let me deal with the other customers," his voice gruff and laced with nervousness.

"I haven't paid yet," she set the money on the counter, not wanting to exchange the money by passing it to him, his hands didn't look clean. She hurried out, wandering why the baker, who had always treated her with mild pleasantness, was acting so squeamish. Maybe she'd find out another day.

* * *

Japanese Words To Know This Chapter:

Koden-condolence money given at a Japanese Buddhist funeral

Nagamaki-a long shaft with a blade attached, the hilt is made of wrapping instead of wood like the Naginata


	49. Chapter 49: Hokkaido, 1882, Part 5

Saito frowned at the person on the porch. The woman with green eyes from the mountain. "Why are you here?"

"My hus…ban…lie…man," her words were slow and halting; she was clearly not fluent in their language.

"What?"

"I think she might like tea, Goro," Tokio said, inviting the woman in with a warm smile and a wave. Her husband gave her a dour look, but shrugged and sat on the zabuton. After a moment of hesitation the Ainu woman sat down beside him.

"What are you saying to me?"

She frowned, blinking at him like a simpleton. She waved her hands around before sighing and saying, "Mamoru…he…um…man," here she used her hands to shape a man for them. She raised her hand upward, gesturing while saying, "gal, gal, gal."

"I'm going to get a translator. Where's Kai-san?"

"He took Eiji-kun out. They should be back shortly."

"Big?" Here her hands shaped a broad man for them. Saito just shook his head, mumbling about the idiocy of trying to understand her without a translator.

"Are you talking about Mamoru?" Saito finally snapped out, scowling. She blinked, cocking her head to the side. "Is Mamoru-san the man you're talking about?"

She shook her head vigorously, "man...Mamoru no man?"

Saito snorted as Tokio poured the Ainu woman some tea. "You can't blame her for not speaking our language, koishii."

"I don't blame her, I'm just frustrated. We haven't had a lead since that house where Takahito-san and Kanata-san died at. Three weeks without anything isn't easing my nerves at all. And this woman," he waved at her in annoyance, "probably isn't going to be of any help."

Tokio shrugged, "I guess we just wait and see. I'm sure she wouldn't have risked her husband's disapproval and the hike if it was for something unimportant."

"Humph," he glanced at the woman for a long time, watching her stare at the tea in her cup. "She has green eyes. Have you ever seen the color?"

"No," Tokio muttered.

"Me neither."

"She's almost like a westerner. I've seen fair haired westerners before, but never with green eyes. They are quiet particular."

"I've been thinking that too. I wonder where Mamoru-san might have gotten her from."

"Goro, women aren't just found in the wilderness."

"I didn't mean it like that. I'm just surprised her Ainu parents married her to a man like Mamoru-san. He doesn't have any…becoming qualities about him. He has neither wit nor wealth. Of course for Ainu people I can't imagine them caring so much for riches, but wouldn't they want at least a warrior type? Mamoru-san isn't even very strong looking. I'm wondering if perhaps she was taken from her family."

"I didn't consider that. If she was taken why doesn't she leave Mamoru? Do you think she loves him?"

"No… I can't say."

"Where'd the beauty come from?" Kai asked as he trudged inside with Eiji on his heels.

"Good, Kai-san, go get a translator. One that speaks Ainu well or else I'll have your head. Better yet I should go and you watch my family."

"I'll go you big ass," Kai kicked on the sandals he'd disregarded not a moment before, saying over his shoulder. "You make me out to be an incompetent idiot like Takeda-san."

"I would never insult Takeda-san by grouping you two in the same sentence."

"Hahaha, remind me why I came from Kyoto again? You're just an asshole."

Saito watched Kai leave before announcing he needed a cigarette and disappearing from the room. Eiji stared at the Ainu native before Tokio shooed the boy from the room when she realized his gaping was making her uncomfortable. Thankfully their sons were at Nagakura's place.

Kai came back with a scrawny man dressed in westerner garb. He smiled and settling down took the tea Tokio offered. Kai settled near the shoji as Saito came back inside from smoking.

"Ask her about Mamoru-san," Saito said to the translator.

The man nodded and started speaking in a fast nonsensical language. At least to their ears for the woman seemed to understand his gibberish and began talking back. After a pause he said crispy in Japanese, "It would seem her husband, a Mamoru-san, has been keeping some information from the police. She says a tall, broad shouldered man was on Mt. Tengu recently. He came to their house a few times."

"Hagos was there, damn it I knew it. Has her husband been harboring Hagos or is it just some chance meetings? Have they exchanged anything like weapons or something? Come on give me something else…" Saito looked and sounded like a harried wolf, his face almost monstrous with the triumphant grin that split his face and the gleam in his eyes.

The woman looked immensely nervous and Tokio sympathized with her. It probably wasn't easy for her to turn in the man who was her husband. She loved Saito and if he had ever done anything evil it would have broken her heart to turn him in. Perhaps she didn't love her husband and was just bothered by Saito's interrogation. That would make it easier certainly.

She talked for a long time with the translator. Saito watched with glowing eyes, his face back to its characteristic calm, but his hands smoothed his unwrinkled uniform restlessly and his mouth twitched occasionally showing his impatience.

"Anthelia-san here informs me that they have meetings in their house. Hagos, a tall man who sells breads down in the city, and another man who works at local mill all meet to decide things. She isn't quite sure what exactly… Oh and she mentioned a girl who sells ribbons, apparently she keeps tabs on the police and such. Like a spy or something."

Saito stood with a snarl before the man had even finished speaking. "Kai-san stay here with my family. You girl," he waved in Anthelia's direction with a ferocious swipe, "are coming with me to the police station to give a full report. As for you…"

"Takuya Nakamura."

"Nakamura-san if you would translate for the officers at the station you'll be compensated generously for it."

"What about you," Kai asked, looking like he didn't expect Saito to just sit at the station while Anthelia gave her information.

Saito smirked, pulling out his pack and matches, "When I'm done with this, I'll go get permission to raid some places from the superintendent. I think I'll start with the baker, miller, and then the ribbon girl." He blew out a puff of acidic smoke with a leer, the corner of his eyes flashing with little pinpricks of fire because of the flaming tip of his cigarette.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're not really evil, old buddy," Kai said with a shake of his head, "Certainly you were the strangest of us. How about I make some rice balls for every one and we enjoy ourselves while you're husband is out, Fujita-san?"

"That's sounds delightful, Kai-san. Do be home before too late, koishii."

"I'll try to be quiet when I get back," he rubbed out his cigarette before it was even halfway gone, his eagerness for the hunt surpassing his desire for nicotine. He gave a small wave of goodbye as he walked out, his steps nearly floating over the pavement in his excitement.

"I've never seen him quite so worked up," she commented as she set to helping Kai make the rice balls.

"Oh, yeah, it's a rare and unwanted sight, eh? Kinda gives me the chills seeing him like that again. Glad to see he doesn't do it often. Did it a lot during the Bakumatsu, he always got real gungho when the Battousai's name came up in conversation. It was the only thing that really get emotion out of him before." Kai smiled at her and ran a hand over her hair like a playful older brother, "but he's changed, Fujita-san, and I take it ain't cause of anybody but you. He's a bit old softy now, real tame like, but nobody ever said being in love was a bad thing…did they?"

"I don't believe so," she admitted, flattening out her hair where he'd mussed it.

"Oi, you look like your little one when you do that…Like Yoshi-kun, he's real neat about himself."

"I always thought he got his primness from his father, thanks for making me feel like a clean freak, Kai-san."

"No problem, Fujita-san, I enjoy making Saito-kun and his relations feel uncomfortable, it's a gift I say."

"You're almost as good as Shinpachi-san."

"Pffh, who's saying he didn't learn it from me, hm?"

* * *

Saito saw the men leaving the baker's home long before they even glanced in his direction. Drawing his katana and advancing on his prey he felt immense relief. Now they would stop these senseless killings in the name of Hagos' revenge against the Meji, now there would be no fear for Nagakura and his family, and they could go back to Tokyo where they belonged and everything would go back to normal.

The miller and baker stopped short, seeing him and three other officers' step into their path. The walls on either side, the wind and buildings to his back, the expressionless moon and twinkling stars above, the cracked pavement beneath his feet, and the adversity ready to fight before him. As he blinked he felt for a moment that he was back in the time of the Bakumatsu wearing the Shinsengumi haori, the tasuki holding back the sleeves of his uniform and a headband keeping sweat from his eyes.

Exhaling he was back to himself, feeling the stiff collar of his police uniform digging into his neck, the heaviness of the holster were his sword sheath swung, and the taunt fabric of the westernized pants hugging his legs. He was not in the Bakumatsu, he told himself, and his enemy wasn't even armed. The miller had a little knife at his waist, but he didn't draw it. Instead both men ran at a furious dash in between two different building. Following after the baker and letting two of the other men go after the miller he sheathed his katana, knowing it was pointless to try and run with it in his hand.

Gaining momentum every second he started to draw closer to the slower baker. Lunging over a bucket the baker had upended to slow them down he came inches away from the man's kimono collar. He just barely ducked his head in time to avoid getting swiped in the face by a low hanging awning.

The baker tripped over something and skidded to a stop on his hands and knees on the pavement. He wasted no time and lunged, tackling the man. Before the baker himself realized it he was tramped beneath a wolf with his claws just meter's away from his face.

His katana at the man's throat he spoke harshly, "Arata Sasaki-san you are under arrest."

* * *

"Screw you, I ain't telling you anything, bastard, and of course you believe 'em over me about the nose, asshole." The baker, one Arata Sasaki, said as he pressed a hand to his bleeding nose. The other officers had affirmed that Arata had gotten the bloody nose after he'd tripped on his way to his cell. Arata on the other hand wouldn't stop moaning about police brutality. If he didn't stop Saito had half a mind to show him real brutality.

"Of course I believe them over you, you simpleton, they are honest men for the most part and are not helping a murderer like Hagos."

"I told you I don't know anything about any murders!"

"I wasn't asking," he bite out. He glanced at Kaede Uchida, the miller and fellow accomplice; the man was sitting on his mat in the cell, looking neither nervous nor rattled as Arata Sasaki was. It was strange behavior for a man who would be facing more years than he could probably count on one hand. Unless he thought he could get out of this, the man's actions so far were puzzling.

The other officers had told him that Kaede had hardly ran more than a block before stopping and giving up. Arata he'd chased for well over a mile. The deviation in Kaede's actions compared to a normal criminals was baffling and not in a good way. He'd hoped by arresting these two that they'd quickly cough up Hagos, but even frantic Arata was keeping his mouth shut when it came to Hagos' whereabouts.

He gave the paperwork to one of the other officers and approached the cell. Arata backed away from the bars, looking dubious as he stood in the middle of his prison. Kaede hadn't bothered to even open his eyes, his hands resting peacefully in his lap.

"I'm not as concerned about Hagos' whereabouts as I am on when he'll do it," he stated confidently, watching Kaede's hand twitch. He'd guessed that Hagos' intended target was Nagakura and his family weeks ago; he was only interested on when it happened.

"What time is it?" His smirk faltered as his eyebrow rose skeptically. He pulled out his pocket watch, "Seven forty."

"Oh in that case, Inspector Fujita, you're a little late. Better hurry, he started ten minutes ago."

He snarled, glared, and sped out of the police station like a wolf being chased by hounds and hunters.

* * *

He stared as Nagakura waved and smiled from the path leading to his house. His eyes racked over the man's house, the street, and citizens nearby looking for signs of Hagos. Two of his children were playing in the yard and Miki was calmly sewing as she sat on the steps.

"Something wrong, Fujita-san?"

Realization dawned in his apprehensive eyes. "Brunet, Ikariya, and Ogawa stay here and protect Nagakura's family. Aikawa, Hayagawa, Nishimura, and Endo come with me."

"What's happened," Shinpachi demanded again, frowning.

"We've captured two suspects and believe Hagos is making his move. No time to chat," he was rushing out of the yard as he spoke, his hands yanking out his pocket watch as he ran. "Damn already seven fifty."

* * *

Tokio answered the door and shrieked as the man, sword drawn, walked through the shoji. Haruto Hagos laughed, "Let the dance begin, Tokio-san. Don't struggle, I promise this will be quick if you submit."

"Go to hell," and remembering the children were up stairs her blood pounded quicker in her veins. Hopefully Hagos would over look them. He smiled, like a predator enjoying watching his prey squirm. He saw the wakizashi leaning against the alcove, just a few steps behind her.

"You know I'm surprised Saito-san left you all to yourself. Well, this will be much easier than I previously thought. Actually do struggle, I prefer it."

"You must think Saito-kun's pretty stupid, Hagos-san," Kai snapped out, appearing behind Tokio, his own katana drawn, "believe me, underestimating Saito-san and myself is a lethal idiocy."

"Oh, Kai Shimada, what a wonderful surprise!"

"I'm gonna kill you in the name of the Shinsengumi and Aku Soku Zan!"

"Let's see what the Hercules of the Shinsengumi can do!"

"Fine," pushing Tokio to the side and out of the way he lunged at Hagos. Haruto sidestepped the powerful thrust and attacked with a wide arc for Kai's neck. Kai pivoted out of the way of the killing blow and their swords collided. The deafening sound of grinding metal snapped Tokio out of her stupor.

Running to the alcove she fetched the wakizashi. "Okasan? What's going on?" Eiji was standing on the steps, his eyes wide. Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi were sticking their heads through the railing as her youngest exclaimed repeatedly, "Ogre, Ogre!" Her eldest was pointing at the fighting men in terror, his brown eyes huge in his small face.

Seeing her frightening sons she ran up the steps. She pulled Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi away from the railing, holding both of them close, confirming that they were alive. Not out of danger yet perhaps, but still breathing, she mused. She grabbed both of their sleeves and shoved them in front of her.

"Get to my room, darlings, and hurry. Eiji." He was watching Kai and Hagos, their quick attacks and counter attacks, their parrying and blocking, their fierce yells and snarls.

She grabbed the collar of his juban and shook him, "Eiji!" He stared at her then, his face white and mouth gaping. Collecting himself he smiled weakly and followed her up the steps and into her and Goro's room.

She led the children to the futon on the furthest wall from the shoji. Wrapping their shivering bodies in the blankets she snuggled close to them for warmth. Eiji stood near the shoji, his eyes darting around as he listened to the clashing downstairs.

They could hear cries and thuds and then the shattering of glass, probably the vase of her latest horrible ikebana. She'd never gotten good at ikebana, no matter how hard she'd tried and Goro had always teased that she was a poor wife because of her lack of the art. She wished more than anything that her husband was here.

Tsuyoshi was sniffling, wiping his sleeve across his frightened tear stained face. Tsutomu was quiet, his face unblemished, but his eyes were distressed. He asked softly, his voice sounding young and meek, "Is Otosan gonna come and scare off the bad man?"

"Yeah," Tsuyoshi chimed, "Otosan will make him go away if the ogre doesn't."

"I'm sure he's on his way, darlings," she clasped her hands over their ears, pressing their heads against her chest as a particularly vulgar obscenity left one of the men downstairs. It was strange how the noise traveled through the house, usually she couldn't hear the downstairs from above, but perhaps that was because she was usually doing something that made noise and drowned out anything else. Now upstairs was deadly quiet and below was a ruckus.

Eiji came over and reached for the wakizashi lying at her feet. She stopped him, "What are you doing?"

"If he comes in here…if Kai loses…I'll protect you three. I'll give you time to run out. I won't let you die."

"Eiji-kun," she stared into his eyes, wondering if he was thinking of his brother's incident where he'd been helpless. "It's not worth your life; don't try to be a hero, please."

"What would you have me do? Let him kill us all? I couldn't stop Eiichiro-kun from dying, but…I can be redeemed by protecting you."

"Eiichiro wouldn't want you to die like this. He didn't lose his life merely to see you lose yours only a few years later. Eiji, I forbid you from leaving."

"You can't stop me," he grabbed the wakizashi. She clutched the hilt. A terrible silence descended between them. Brown determined eyes met darker pleading ones.

"Eiji, be sensible…"

"Let me do this, Tokio." It was the first time he'd forgone any suffixes. Her heart clenched and she lowered her gaze. He was set; no matter what she might say or do to try and stop him he wouldn't be dislodged. He would go down there with his bare hands if he thought that it would buy them time. She let go of the wakizashi, meeting his eyes again.

"Don't get killed, Eiji, I love you."

He nodded, picked up the wakizashi and went to the door. The noise had stopped a moment ago, like the calm before a terrible storm. Eiji glanced back at them, smiling, "I love you, Tokio. Tsutomu remember to practice your letters and don't be so shy around the girls, and Tsuyoshi, just remember to have fun, got it?"

"Love you Eiji," Tsuyoshi said, smiling, not seeming to realize what Eiji was about to do.

"I know. I'm doing this for you, kid. Both of you make me proud and don't annoy Hajime so much, right. Bye," and as the noise picked up downstairs Eiji raced out the door. Tokio gave a helpless wail as both of her young children looked at her in confusion.

Inhaling sharply through her nose she stood on wobbling legs, "Come on, we'll go out through the back door, darlings."

* * *

Saito was pulling up to their home when he saw a brightly dressed figure and two small forms come from around the backside of the house. Realizing the bright blue figure was Tokio he raced towards her. She looked out of sorts, her hair in disarray, her cheeks red, and her eyes wide.

"Tokio," he scrutinized every detail about her, looking for any injure. She seemed perfectly already from here, if not a bit rumpled and distressed.

"Thank Kami you're here. Hagos is inside fighting Kai-san and Eiji…oh Eiji took the wakizashi and said he'd hold Hagos off if Kai didn't. Go save him…" Her voice was on the verge of hysteria and the frantic look in her eyes worried him.

"What the hell was he thinking," he snapped out, drawing his katana. Kijinmaru felt heavy in his hand and the sunlight on the blade was strange to him, he was use to drawing his sword at night and seeing the moon's reflection, not bright daylight.

He left the children and Tokio to Endo, Aikawa, and Hayagawa and took Nishimura inside with him. Stomping up to the shoji he tore it open.

Kai and Hagos, blades locked, stood near the left of the room at the moment. Kai's face was bright with a sweaty shin, his eyes glowing in only that way that a man giving it his all in a fight to the death could. Hagos was much more composed, though that was not a great feat. He was as sweaty as Kai, the veins on his arm sticking out as he struggled to dislodge Kai's sword from his own. Eiji was standing at the landing of the stairs, the wakizashi clutched in his trembling hands as sweat beat a trail down his face, arms, and neck.

He snarled, a sound much more animal than anything human, and said in a grumble hardly recognizable as speech. "He's mine!"

Kai retreated some paces away from Hagos, ran a ripped sleeve across his wide grim brow, grinned like a lunatic, and sheathed his katana. "This fight's not mine."

"Goro-san," Eiji said then, his voice timid as a lamb's. He looked frightened to see these two great men he'd respected acting like beasts unleashed or like demons come from the underworld.

"Close your eyes, Eiji-kun," Kai said as he patted the boy on the back, "Ain't a need to see what Saito-kun's gonna do to Hagos here. You're young yet, plenty a time to witness this gruesome business later, when you're older. Or don't witness it ever would be my advise, lad." Kai grew somber, his smile flattening into a frown, his brow furrowing, his eyebrows drawing neatly together like two logs in a line. "Prepare for a blood bath, Hagos-san, Saito-san's one vicious wolf when his pack has been attacked. You must have a death wish."

"The only one with a death wish is the Meiji's lackey," Hagos howled, his katana settling into a defensive stance. "Come on, show me your strength or I'll see to your horny little bitch now instead of later."

Saito was silent, his katana swiftly moving into his patented Gatotsu stance. His eyes, swirling amber pools promising death with no remorse and regret.

Eiji gave a startled yelp when Saito leaped with an earsplitting howl tearing from his throat. Hagos narrowly avoided a sword to his gut. The dance processed as if they had rehearsed it a million times.

Saito's katana switched from one direction to the next by hardly even a flick of his wrist. Hagos ducked beneath the whizzing blade, kicking Saito's legs out of from under him.

Saito rolled into a crouch, finding Hagos' sword descending to behead him as he got to his knees. Blocking his killing blow with Kijinmaru he punched Hagos with one hand. Hagos staggered away, holding his stomach with his left hand.

Not giving him time to recuperate he founded after him with a thrust to the collarbone. Hagos dropped onto his left kneel, his right shoulder dropping just enough to save his life. Saito's sword flipped over, the sharp edge now down, and came rushing to meet flesh. It was blocked by the hilt of Hagos' katana, the metal piecing the leather wrapped handle and getting lodged.

Both man paused a moment to stare at the awkward situation before Saito yanked violently on the hilt of his blade, freeing it and swaggering back a few paces. Hagos thrusted at him as he regained his balance. Sending the katana point to the ground with a downward swipe he swung his arm back and brought it around in a circle aimed for Hagos' torso. Blocking the attack just in time Hagos' retreated.

* * *

Eiji, marveling at their skill and strength, let his mind wonder to the conclusion of this duel. Death would be the loser's end, no more beginnings, no more happiness, even a simple joy like breath in his lungs, wind blowing his hair, laughter escaping his throat would no longer be. Death was such a powerful irrevocable thing, it frightened him beyond measure and yet it inspired in him reverence for life.

He loved his life, loved Tokio and Goro and the children. He loved living with the Fujita family, he loved just sitting in his room and not having to share it with his brother like he had in his youth, he loved his new kimonos when he'd only had hand-me-downs' when he'd been younger, he loved the sweets Tokio made, he loved Tsutomu's attention when he told a joke, or Tsuyoshi's awed eyes when he gave him advice…he loved his life and wouldn't have traded it for a million yen. Even if giving up his life meant he could bring back Eiichiro and his parents he was sure they would have told him to keep enjoying his life and not worry about them.

He fell to his knees, hands trembling, face white as snow, eyes misty with tears. So how could Hagos or Saito risk their lives? How could they fight each other knowing death was the conclusion? How could Saito, a man loved beyond measure by his family and happy, risk it all? Hagos perhaps he could understand a little. He had no permanent home, no immediate relatives, and all his friends had probably died during the Bakumatsu. Two men, who'd been on the same path, had diverged into two different directions. Hagos had gone on to revenge his honor and friends while Saito had moved on, found love, and was happy where Hagos was not.

It was so bizarre how a small deviation in thought about one tiny thing could change two men into exact opposites of each other. He remembered Himura and felt a swell of understanding burst through his consciousness. Himura he had always admired because he'd stopped Senkaku and that Shishio fellow who'd been his boss, but he'd never contemplated Himura's life ideology beyond thinking it stupid and unrealistic. Now looking at it from this view he saw the rightness of it, the grandness and just how hard the ideology was to follow. Any man could go out and hack another to pieces when he felt himself wronged, but it took a truly great man like Himura to be humble enough to talk about it instead.

A quiver went through his body at this epiphany, this understanding that he'd never want anyone to carelessly stuff out his own life made him suddenly see that other people didn't deserve to have their lives stuffed out either. No matter how wronged he was, no matter how humiliated, or beaten he got he knew that he'd never have it in himself to kill another human being. Before he'd always felt himself weak for not being able to do what Saito did with such ease, but he wondered now if perhaps Himura did the harder feat.

Individuals deserved to be given the benefit of the doubt, no matter how wicked their deeds seemed. He had to be like Himura and extend a hand to a man who'd never had one offered by anyone else. He rose to his feet, raising his face proudly to the light shinning in from the shoji. His eyes went wide when he saw Hagos' body. His corpse.

He was slumped against the wall, his throat slashed smoothly, blood dribbling down his chin onto his kimono and neck. He screamed, a sound more acute than any of Saito's vicious snarls in battle. Saito glanced up from cleaning his sword, a look of boredom on his somber face.

"What's wrong, Eiji?"

"You…ah," He'd only seen Saito kill once, it had stayed with him for weeks afterward and he had justified the killing by thinking that the weasel girl would have been dead otherwise. He let out a sharp breath, relaxed his taunt shoulders and unclenched his tight jaw. He just nodded his head slowly, walking forward to the shoji. Stepping outside Eiji Mishima realized something, he was really back to himself now, no more anger at Senkaku, no more desperation and panic at watching Eiichiro die, and no more need to fight…no more need to try and throw his life away in making up for his family's deaths. He was free now. He let go of the wakizashi, that defiantly wasn't needed anymore.


	50. Chapter 50: Tokyo, 1884, Part 1

So a lot of different scenes this chapter, lol, mostly this chapter is just snippets of random things that will connect eventually... Anyway R&R, thanks for reading.

* * *

He termed his superior to be insane. Kiyotaka Kuroda was nuts if he thought he'd spend anymore time in Hokkaido. Hagos had been dealt with and his conspirators arrested and waiting sentence. There was no more work to be done and yet Kiyotaka insisted he stay to train some idiots? What was he thinking? Snatching up the letter from the floor where he'd tossed it in his initial anger he reread it.

_HS,_

_We at the Department of the Interior are glad to hear of your heroic handling of Haruto Hagos. He was a despicable man and we are most grateful you didn't dawdle in your pursuit of him. Many lives were saved. As to your return which you requested in your last letter to me I'm afraid it can not be arranged as of yet. Matters in Hokkaido require immediate attention. As you stated in your letter the officers of Otaru are undisciplined, illiterate, and more then a little unskilled. Seeing that they are in desperate requirement of better training and you were once a kenjutsu instructor for the Shinsengumi, it would be most agreeable if you would begin instructing not only the new recruits but the veterans as well. It would also be more convenient to have you do it and not to have to send someone else. Please stay until further notice and a warm hello to your family. __– __KK_

He wanted to scream. Yes he did. Why had he ever taught kenjutsu back in his youth? He'd been forced into it by Okita, he recalled, for the smiling Souji had termed it good fun to sign him, Nagakura, and several other unit captains up as kenjutsu instructors. Kondo had been pleased with the turn out when they'd all arrived at the training dojo the next morning at Okita's summons. After Kondo had left them with the new recruits, he remembered with resentment, Okita had broken the news to them about their new job descriptions. Nagakura hadn't minded, he mused, wondering if he could dump this new task on him and get out of the snow ridden horror that was Hokkaido.

* * *

"No, Saito-kun," Nagakura said after he'd mentioned his new instructor position.

"I didn't even ask you yet, moron."

"You were planning on it; you can't just dump your crap on me. I have to work you know, I can't afford to do your job for you."

"You'd be getting paid for it."

"I won't work for the government."

"Nagakura, you're a hypocrite. You know why you're a hypocrite," Shinpachi didn't look pleased at the term, which he'd known he wouldn't. There were only two things the second captain of the Shinsengumi couldn't stand being called: hypocrite and deserter. "Because you're a farmer, my friend, do you know where most of you're food goes? To government officers, officials, or agencies. So really you should just conform and take the job. It pays really well and you can train them on your own time."

"Shut up, Saito-san, I'm not doing you any favors, especially now that you called me a hypocrite, piss off. I'm going home. I never should have come." He watched Nagakura leave the restaurant in vexation, wondering if perhaps a dojo instructor lived in town and could do this job for him.

He spent half an hour asking people if they had a dojo instructor, one name came from the four people he asked. Mitsuru Kiyomizu, a kind man respected in the community, had back problems and poor eye sight. His eldest son Nobyuki had to stay with him all day and night and his family lived with Mitsuru to assure his safety. His second born Norio was a teacher at the school and had no inclination to the sword. Yuudai, his third was away in Sendai and would return in the spring. Tamotsu and Shinichi, his fourth and fifth sons respectively were in the army and had no plans to return to Hokkaido ever again. Rokuro, his sixth son was hardly past the age of thirteen. Six children and none of them useful to him.

He decided he'd at least talk to Norio and see if these inclinations were fictitious. He could even speak to Nobyuki maybe and see if he could swing the kenjutsu training with one of his other brothers. Tamotsu and Shinichi would have been his preferred candidates, but they were no where around. Yuudai maybe but he'd rather not have to wait until the spring for an unlikely hope. It was a shame Rokuro wasn't a little older; he heard the boy took after his father in vigor.

* * *

He went to the Kiyomizu residence a week later. The place was ancient, likely having been built by the Ainu before them. A girl, wearing a plum colored kimono and a gray ribbon, was humming as she swept the steps. She saw him coming and smiled. "Hello!"

Her cheerful voice was a squeal, almost as annoying as the weasel. Hm…She kinda looked like a beaver with her lean face, long nose, and small dark eyes. He smiled politely, playing the part of a kind officer, "I'm Goro Fujita from the police department. Is Nobyuki-san here?"

"Is he in trouble?"

"Chieko-chan is Nobyuki-kun home?" Short, chubby, and with an upturned nose her sister, for the two bore the same eyes and dark hair, reminded him of a mole.

"No. A police officer is here, though," Cheiko said.

Her sister eyed him with a distrustful air, "I'm Kokoro Kiyomizu. My brother Nobyuki-san is not home, he is out fetching dinner. Would you like to wait for him?"

He paused a second, considering his options before asking, "If Nobyuki-san is not here then is Norio-san?"

Chieko smiled, "Oi, Norio-san's here, he was just telling a story about something that happened at the school. You can see him if you want. Oh yes and I'm Chieko Kiyomizu."

He found himself wondering as the two women lead him to Norio why neither was married. Kokoro seemed intelligent and witty and Chieko was pleasant and unassuming. Both had good qualities a man might look for in a wife, but perhaps Mitsuru didn't want his daughters marrying? It was none of his business truthful, but it was a curious thing to have two unwed daughter on the verge of spinsterhood. Kokoro was almost Tokio's age and Cheiko looked to be about twenty and six.

When they entered the sitting room the noise of laugher drifted to his ears. A girl, tall, lean, and dark haired, was talking animatedly to a man with glasses.

"Norio-san this officer wants to talk to you," Chieko flounced over to the two. Kokoro eyed him wearily as he sat across from a puzzled Norio and a started woman.

"Hello, I'm Kohaku Kiyomizu," the woman bowed to him politely.

He bowed back, "Evening, I'm Goro Fujita from the police department."

"I'm Norio Kiyomizu," said the man as he pushed his glasses up his nose and looked him over thoughtfully, "Chieko-chan said you were looking for me?"

Chieko blushed and looked embarrassed at being addressed by a child's term at her age. Kokoro had picked up some hakama she'd previously left and Kohaku was pouring him tea and offering some kasuteria.

He waved the kasuteria away, turning his full attention onto Norio. He was about average height with the same dark hair and brown eyes of his siblings, his curly hair fell into his eyes and covered his ears and temple. He reminded him of an unruly schoolboy.

He lowered his gaze, perhaps this was a bad idea. Norio didn't seem like the type who'd learn swordplay, even if his father had drilled him in his youth he'd probably forgotten it all by now. Maybe waiting for Nobyuki was the best move. But the Battousai was a great swordsman and he looked far from it, Okita too and others all had looked that implied otherwise. He decided to go ahead and ask Norio, it couldn't possibly come to harm merely to ask.

"I was told your father Mitsuru Kiyomizu was once a dojo instructor," he wouldn't beat about the bush, it wasn't his manner.

"Yes, he was before the dojo closed down. It was quite a shame really, father loved the dojo, and he still goes there just to stare at the polished floor and remember the time where he got to hit people with a wooden bokken." He took a drink of his tea and smiled pleasantly, "Of course the room's merely a storage space now."

"I see. Have you any interest in reviving the dojo?"

Norio coughed on his tea, glancing up at him like he was mad. "What? I've no desire to wield a bokken; I'm a teacher of mathematics. Is that why you came here?"

"Not exactly. I couldn't care less if you reopen your dojo or not. I was hoping you or one of your brothers' would like to train some of the police officers. Most of them have no idea how to hold a katana, much less use it properly. It pays well," he added as an after thought, knowing the mention of money could sometimes change minds.

Norio shook his head, "I know about as much as they, I'm sure, sorry. Rokuro-kun was born about the time the dojo closed, Nobyuki-san is busy with his obligations, and half my brothers are away."

"I'm well aware of the condition of your siblings. I'm relying on you or Nobyuki-san. The training could be arranged around Nobyuki-san's schedule and―."

"Why don't you do it," they all turned to see a lean, tanned man in the doorway. He had Norio's curly hair and brown eyes. He had tofu in one hand and a bag of rice in the other. In Saito's eyes the man would have made a better trainer than Norio, at least he looked like he could put up a fight.

"Nobyuki-san I presume? I've no intention of staying in Hokkaido any longer then necessary."

"Well, my brother and I, and for that matter the rest of my family, have no intention of reopening the dojo or training any officers. Got it, we have bigger worries then that. Kohaku-san, I've got the rice. Why don't you start dinner a little early?"

The woman took the rice and tofu and left to make dinner. He scowled then; this was turning out to be fruitless. All his effort wasted. He stood, "If you're decision is unchangeable I'll take my leave."

"Good riddance," Nobyuki mumbled when he thought he was out of earshot.

* * *

"Tokio," he began, sitting his chopsticks down beside his finished meal.

"The food was good, Okasan," Tsumotu interrupted, smiling, "Can we go outside and play?"

"Of course, darlings, just don't trek in so much mud and snow this time." Tokio sat down on the zabuton, smiling, "I can't wait until we return to Tokyo, I've missed it greatly and…" She was staring at him now with concern, "What's wrong? You've been so uptight this evening, koishii, you even snapped at Tsu-chan three times during the course of the meal. That's a record."

His lips quirked slightly at the observation of his mood, but then all trace of even a small smirk faded from his features. "Tokio, we will be staying in Hokkaido longer then intended." He pulled out the letter from his pocket and handed it to her.

Unfolding the little square, she read it, her brow furrowing at the meaning. She set it aside, "Do you want more tea, koishii?"

"Yes," he watched her pour it silently. "I don't intend the training to take more then a year at best."

"It's not me I'm worried about."

"The children like Hokkaido for the most part, they hardly notice the difference. Eiji has been over that silly Kotone girl for months, I doubt he'll sulk at staying a little longer."

"I wasn't talking about the children." Saito pulled out a cigarette and took a long puff as he eyed his wife. She looked composed for the most part, but there was a droop to her shoulders and a tiredness to her eyes that was unmistakably grief. He frowned, wondering if bringing her to Hokkaido had been the worse decision he'd made over the course of their marriage. She had wanted to come, but ever since Teru's health had taken a turn for the worse she had been out of sorts. "Oh, Hajime, would you stop smoking those things, they're going to be the death of you…"

He was angry with the situation and himself. He'd always prided himself in being able to care for his family's basic needs and protect them from enemies, but how was he suppose to protect them from hidden internal serpents? He couldn't fight those with his Gatotsu.

He wasn't even sure Tokio wanted his comfort right now. This situation with Teru really had nothing to do with him, he wasn't the one Tokio needed desperately to speak to. It was frustrating knowing his wife was in mental pain and he couldn't do anything to ease it. He stood and sat down beside her, gently rubbing her back with his free hand as he finished off his cigarette and rubbed it out in the ashtray with his other.

This whole damn situation reminded him of Okita and they're friendship. When Okita had first died, he recalled, he had merely needed time to heal the wound. He had thrown himself into his work and tried every day to forget about all the little things that were missing without Okita. There wasn't as much laugher in the first unit or his own, the neighborhood children stopped coming around looking for Okita, the moment when Okita would disturb him from his quiet moments and trick him.

Things had been good with Okita, the Bakumatsu had been more bearable and life had almost seemed to have some reason to be if only to protect Okita's innocence and those like him. With Okita's death he'd lost a lot, but he'd also gained a little something. His drive to protect the innocence of Kyoto had been diminishing with the years, his desire to protect them had been dying a slow and painful death with every name the citizens threw at them and every sneer, the citizens hadn't wanted their protectors and for a while he'd thought maybe he didn't want them too, ungrateful bastards that they were. Okita's death had given him renewed hope in the goodness of the people he was protecting and for that Okita had given him more than anyone else back then.

Tokio herself had giving him hope in the Meiji's citizenry and made him want to become a police officer.

Teruhime, whatever she had given his wife in life, would no doubt give even more in death. Hopefully.

* * *

Tokyo. The city was on the verge of bad weather, he noticed from his seat in the carriage, but that didn't diminish the sight of his beloved city. Funny, he had never thought well of Kyoto back in the day and was surprised to find he felt differently about Tokyo. Kyoto had been hell unleashed at night from the hitokiri and in the day it had only been tension with the citizens, but in Tokyo it was different. In Tokyo the population smiled, children played, no one ran from sight when he passed by. Sure they all gave way to him in the street, particularly if he scowled, but for the most part they just ignored him and went on with their lives. In Kyoto they'd been feared, but in Tokyo they were respected and expected to be good to the law abiding citizens. This was how law should be treated, he mused, a good dose of fear from the criminals and healthy respect from the people. This was how he had always hoped it would be back then.

He knew Tokio was watching him. He turned and smiled, not the fake polite Goro Fujita smile, but a genuine smile. She squeezed his hand, her brown eyes brilliantly bright today and gave him her heart warming smile. He turned back to the sights; clean stone streets, not a sign of blood in any alleys, and neat buildings, not ransacked inns or mangled houses, some westernized beyond his memory while others' remained in the Japanese style. All this was his Tokyo.

He was happy being back. And then this happened.

"Otosan! Where's all the snow!"

He averted his attention away from the orderly city to the rowdy brat across from him in the carriage. Scowling he said, "This is Tokyo, not Hokkaido."

"But its January," Tsutomu argued, crossing his arms.

"Weather is different in other regions of Japan, Tsu-chan," his wife admonished, "Don't they teach you that in school?" As a teacher herself she looked aghast at his lack of knowledge.

"They never said it didn't snow in Tokyo."

"It snows here, just not as much."

"Oh. While then where's the snow?"

"It just doesn't snow in January," he snapped, putting a halt to this stupid conversation. It did snow in January in Tokyo, but he wasn't about to reopen the conversation just to tell his stupid six year old. Tsuyoshi and Eiji were sitting quietly glancing out the window and he was grateful for that. He wondered if his youngest son even remembered Tokyo. He'd only been two when they'd left. It was strange to think that Tsutomu was already six going on seven. Tsuyoshi had just turned four last October. In a few years as Tsuyoshi grew up would he recall their time spent in Hokkaido? Some reason he doubted it, but perhaps forgetting about that little episode was for the better.

* * *

Teru looked drawn and pale, her eyes shadowed and her hair mussed. He was grateful he'd not seen Okita on his deathbed; the idea of seeing him like this was beyond unpleasant.

Tokio sat on a stool, holding Tokio's hand and talking softly to her. He stood against the wall, wishing he'd told Tokio no when she'd asked him to come. Seeing the frail woman in the bed was a completely different image compared to his first impression of her in the restaurant with Katamori. She had still insulted him when he'd first walked in with Tokio, but there had been less fire to it and the pain in her eyes had been clear. He still wasn't certain if he'd seen psychical or physical pain in her eyes; he assumed it was probably both.

He lowered his eyes from the two women to the floor. He never wanted to see anyone he loved lying in a bed for weeks on end in pain like this again. He remembered Yaso and her disease, how it had slowly started to sap her strength even to do mandate things and Okita barely able to hold a sword by the end. Disease was the only thing he couldn't fight against and it angered him to be so helpless. This feeling of hopeless helplessness had been part of the reason he'd taken up the sword to protect people from other people. But he couldn't fight the disease for them so all he could do it was hope they had the strength to win the duel.

He remembered all the times people had told him to quit smoking, knowing they told him because they worried, but dismissing their worries as nonsense. No cigarette was going to kill him; he'd die in battle long before any disease claimed his life. Now that the Meiji was here, he mused, his life expectancy had gotten a lot longer. What if in the end the cigarette did the job a sword couldn't? He'd always imagined a death in war with his fallen enemy around him, sometimes from the Battousai's sword too, but not a death through some disease. He shivered at the idea; no way in Kami was he going down without a fight.

Maybe he really should stop smoking? But what good would that do? He'd been smoking for so long now that he was surprised it hadn't killed him already. He could say the same thing about his side work. Hm…was he actually contemplating quitting? He was losing his mind. Taking out a cigarette, setting it to his mouth, and lighting up, he rationalized that it would just be too hard to quit smoking at his age.

* * *

Saito frowned at the young man's retreating back. Handsome face, well defined figure, and amicable nature. Wondering if the man had been modeled after a god he began to wonder what exactly he himself had been crafted after. He turned to his wife who was waving after the man. Coming to where she stood just outside the shoji he asked, "Who is that?"

"A neighbor. His name's Takao Kumai-san."

"I see," he mumbled, "Eiji said hello."

"How does he find his new home?"

"I didn't ask," Saito said, "When's dinner?"

"What do you mean you didn't ask? Goro!"

"What are you angry about? I gave him the tofu you wanted me to, it seems I never do anything right," he grumbled, sitting down on the zabuton.

Tokio crossed her arms and glared at her insufferable husband. "The whole reason you were suppose to go over to his place was to check up on him, idiot. Now he thinks we don't miss him. I'm inviting him over for dinner Saturday. Takao-san said he'd come too."

"Hardly home a week and you're inviting the whole bloody neighborhood over. And who ever said we miss Eiji? He's a brat and I'm glad I don't have to bother feeding his grubby mouth anymore."

Tokio frowned, uncrossing her arms, and furrowing her brow. "You don't mean that koishii, you even told me once you liked Eiji, he was a polite kid you said. I just don't want Eiji to feel lonely in his new house. First Ryoko-san lives and now Eiji-kun…"

"Let's get one thing straight, Tokio, just because he was a polite kid doesn't mean I liked him. There's a lot more than that. Now where's my dinner?"

Tokio was setting his food before him as he watched her silently. She looked troubled, he sighed, damn his considerate heart. "Wife," she paused, looking amused at his use of the rare term. "I…do not understand why Eiji felt the need to leave. Ryoko-san I could understand, but…where we so bad to him?"

She smiled then, startling him, "He didn't leave because of us, koishii. He just felt he was ready to be an adult and I support him in this. Now," she turned as the shoji opened and Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi trampled inside. "Sit you two and eat before it gets cold. No, Yoshi-chan, we don't have any sauce for the rice, yes I know it's bland without it, but you'll live. Tsu-chan, no picking out the rice and flinging it at your brother!"

He raised his cup to his lips, wondering how he had ended up with such silly kids and an amazingly observant wife. He was about to take a sip when he noticed the white substance in his drink. Raising an eyebrow at it he picked up his rice bowl and glaring at a laughing Tsutomu, dumped his whole bowl onto his son's head. Tsutomu started crying about injustice as Tsuyoshi laughed now and said it was good payback. Tokio stifled a laugh and gave him a wink. Aku Soku Zen to all wasteful rice throwers.


	51. Chapter 51: Tokyo, 1884, Part 2

He officially didn't like Takao Kumai. He especially didn't like the way the man looked at his wife. Through out dinner he'd been polite and talkative, acting the perfect guest, but his eyes had lingered a little too long on Tokio's back as she walked away with the tea. His smiles had been too frequently bestowed on her, his remarks too quick to compliment her, his gaze too often seeking her eyes. Perhaps he was imaging it, perhaps Takao just came off as a lecher because of his handsome face and good manners, or perhaps he was right and the man wanted his Tokio.

He was busy thinking about his newest threat on his walk when Eiji came running out of his home. Eiji stopped a short distance from him, looking frantic.

"Mishima-san," he said, still not feeling up to rewarding him with the familiar terms he'd used with the boy for years. He pulled out a cigarette, thinking Eiji was on his way out after having come over for dinner. It was a bit early for him to be over, he mused, as he grabbed his matches.

"Goro-san," Eiji said, the worry on the boy's face rang alarms in his head. What had happened? "I think its best you talk to Tokio-dono. I can't handle this, I'm not…I just can't. Help her!"

"Don't yell, brat," he snapped out, flicking out a match from his box. "What the hell is the matter? You act like someone just died."

"Um…Goro-san…Teruhime is dead."

The match fell from his hand as his grip slackened. "Huh?"

"She passed away yesterday. Hiroshi-san was with Katamori-san when he found out and so he came over probably about an hour ago. Hiroshi-san said some comforting words and looked almost like he was going to cry! Then he left and I thought you'd be back soon. Well an hour passed…I don't know what to do! She hasn't said a word for an hour, just sits there looking all sad! I can't stand Tokio-dono being in such pain. I was going to go get you, but I didn't think it best to leave her alone."

Teruhime was dead. Teru, the same woman with the mischievous look in her eyes and fiery words, was really gone. Then his mind went to Tokio. Dear kami…no one had talked to her in his absence? Idiots! He wanted to Gatotsu first Eiji and then Hiroshi for being imbeciles. Hiroshi should have known better then to leave his wife alone after such a bombshell.

He threw his unlit cigarette to the ground and dashed inside the open shoji. He heard Eiji following him and closing the shoji. He turned into the living area. Tokio was sitting perfectly straight, a Japanese chess game and some cold tea unfinished before her.

He approached slowly, watching her shoulders for a sign of a tumor. They were shaking ever so slightly, making her looking frailer than he'd ever seen her. Her hair, done up in an elaborate braid wrapped into a bun, was beginning to collapse. He came into her view on the side, noticing her tear strained sleeve and dry cheeks. At least she hadn't been sitting in here and crying the whole time. Or perhaps she'd heard his footsteps and hastily brushed them away seconds ago.

He stood across from her as he said in a surprisingly calm and tender voice, "Tokio?"

She looked up from her hands, her eyes wide and sparkling as they met his. She started sobbing, burying her head into her hands. It was clear now why her hair arrangement was falling out, she clutched at her head as she wept.

"Teru named me that."

He pushed the chessboard and two tea cups out of the way and pulled her into his arms. It was strange to see Tokio weak like this, it was wrong and bewildering. She'd always been a pillar of strength, her foundations more solidly good than his own as her gaze never unerring from the path of righteousness. It was part of the reason he loved her so, she made up ten fold in virtue what she lacked in physical strength.

And here the pillar was wavering, the foundations cracking, the path overrun with too many unkempt weeds. She was being swallowed alive in pain. If there was one thing he knew, he mused, pain was a crippling thing that was necessity for healing. It was not a weakness as some saw it. Teruhime deserved to be mourned and to have tears shed.

He held Tokio tighter, feeling the trembling of her shoulders on his arms, the beating of her breast against his, the hot air of her breath on his neck. She shook her head violently before resting it on his arm. Her tears started to soak the fabric on his arm and shoulder joint. She grasped at his back, her nails digging into the clothing and pressed into his skin.

He landed a hand to her hair, smoothing the ruffled strands and kissing her head. She needed to know when the pain and sorrow started to recede that she had people there for her. He hadn't had such comfort after Okita's death, but he could give it to her. She had always offered her hand to him when he'd felt down, it was about time he helped her grieving heart since he couldn't prevent her pain.

* * *

Today, March fourteenth, would probably be one of the hardest days for Tokio since the news about Teru's death. It was Teruhime's wake.

She was standing just behind Katamori with her back to him. Her shoulders had that quake to them again that signaled she was in tears or damn close to it. Katamori, benevolent and helpful Katamori, was sobbing softly, not seeming in the least to care if anyone saw. Hiroshi standing to his left looked grave, his eyes those same hard ones he'd seen in battle. Hiroshi was probably torn between crying and being strong for everyone else. Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi were all dry eyed, they didn't remember Teru. Eiji had his head bowed, his hair hiding his eyes so that he didn't know if the boy was crying or not.

A few paces away to Katamori's right were the rest of the Matsudaira family. Nobunori Matsudaira, Katamori's adopted son and Kataharu Matsudaira, his biological son, were standing next to each other. Seeing them side by side was surprising as he'd heard they'd never gotten along in their youth. Looking at them now one could see they barely withstood each other, glancing at each other with disdainful looks. Katamori had said Nobunori was in France, but apparently he'd returned home. As for Kataharu he had a close acquaintance with some Meiji officials and they'd seen him well placed in the kazoku and the army as an officer.

He moved closer to Tokio, just to let her know he was here as the ceremony started to draw to a close. His eyes glanced upon Teru's face; her eyes closed peacefully, her lips painted maroon, her cheeks given the color of life by makeup. She was a lovely sight even in death. He hoped that her great soul had found peace.

* * *

_Blood. The smell of it was thick in the air, burning his nostrils and setting his own blood pounding with adrenaline. Surely the Battousai was close by with all that blood. He signaled for his unit to follow behind him as he approached an alley. They could hear the cry of a man inside and the just audible scrape of feet knocking something over hastily. There was another cry and then silence. Descending upon the entrance he glanced at the ghastly scene before him. _

_Blood spattered the small space, oozing down the grimy walls like slim and running like rivers down the cobblestones. He wrinkled his nose in disgust; the smell alone was enough to have most unaccustomed men retching by this point. The sight was far worse than the smell if that was possible. A man with a topknot hairstyle, two sheathes at his waist and a katana at his feet, was killed against the wall, his body starting to slouch forward at the waist. Another bodyguard, his hair short and loose, had been slashed in half, his insides spilling out onto the ground, adding to the sickening smell of the alley._

_The man they'd heard screaming seconds ago lay dead at the end of the alley where the street came into view again. His neat hairstyle, new clothing, and weaponless person signified that he was the hitokiri's intended target. He'd been killed by a thrust through his chest. He'd fallen onto his stomach with his limps spread carelessly. _

_Standing near the fallen politician was the one he'd been searching weeks for. Hair in the same topknot, cross shaped scar on his cheeks (he still wondered where he'd gotten it, who had been skilled enough to get him like that?), katana in hand as his wakizashi hung from his hip. Definitely the Battousai. His blood stirred, he'd longed for this fight, hoping since the last meeting almost two months ago to catch the hitokiri and bring him to Aku Soku Zen. Now was his chance._

_He roared his challenge, yanking his katana out with the ease given from daily practice. He was about to drop into Gatotsu when the Battousai, staring him straight in the eyes with those emotionless orbs of his, turned tail and ran. He cursed, calling his unit to follow after the enemy. _

_He followed the Battousai down narrow streets, pass dim corners, and tight alleys. He nearly tripped more then once over objects left in the way. A bucket someone had used for water he leapt over, hearing a second later the splash as one of his men instead knocked it over and stained his clothes. Another time he sidestepped a noodle stall, hearing several of his men run into it like imbeciles. Surely they weren't that stupid? But he never glanced back, his eyes intent on following the fleeing strip of red hair, knowing if he turned his eyes away even for a second he would lose his target._

_He heard no more breathing behind him as he darted into what should have been an open area full of vendor stalls and vegetable sellers from the out lying regions of Kyoto. Instead the scene that met his eyes was more graphic than anything he'd ever seen during the Bakumatsu, more unnerving and shocking to the senses. For he was no longer in Kyoto. _

_Standing before him was the Battousai, dressed in the same blue gi and gray hakama he was use to seeing him in, but there was something wholly different about the Battousai before him now and the one he knew. When his gaze fell upon the Battousai's eyes he understood. His eyes were frightening, more terrifying to him now that they portrayed emotion then those cold dark orbs he'd always seen. His cheek with the two scars were bleeding, something he'd never witnessed. His face had such a dead look to it, such a pained and sorrowful air, that he felt he was choking on the emotion radiating off him. _

_Taking a breath he noticed the scenery about him was a forest covered in snow. Why here, he wondered dizzily as he watched the unmoving Battousai. _

_The Battousai's dark eyes met his and something flickered in them. Then he was being attacked. He dodged the scabbard swipe of the Sou Ryu Sen Ikazuchi and ducked under the sword attack that followed closely behind. He knew the Battousai's moves all too well and he was not at all disappointed when the Battousai dodged his expected attack. They knew this dance from heart, their enemies' techniques engraved in living memories behind their eyelids._

_He snarled, not even a little deterred despite Battousai's understanding of his fighting style. The Battousai came at him with the same ferocity he was accustomed too back then and their swords clamber echoed through the snow laden forest. It was the only noise that reached his ears other then their panting he noticed as they parted and eyed each other for the decisive attack._

_They were slate mate as they'd always been. Just as he thought the end of this duel was going to take them until utter exhaustion or death claimed them both he was startled as the Battousai dropped to his knees._

_Battousai's katana fell just out of hands reach in the snow, closer to him than his adversity. Battousai made no move to grab the weapon in self defense, he merely lay prostrate, his hands trembling as they grabbed his head in a frantic manner._

_As he came to terms with this strange action he picked up the fallen sword and stepped closer to the defenseless Battousai. The Battousai's lifted his head, staring at him with a pained expression. His eyes were those of someone who wasn't sure he wanted death, only that he wanted the pain to stop._

"_Battousai," he muttered. He had never given much thought as to why the Battousai had turned from killing, he'd only assumed he'd gotten sick of it, like some men did, not that he now wondered if that was not the reason. Staring at the Battousai, he saw the spark of the rurouni, a brief glimmer of compassion, of desire to help, of hope that had always been in the rurouni he knew in his time. _

_He had always liked the Battousai better than his counterpart because he understood him better, they were more alike, but he felt a stirring of realization dawn as he met those eyes. There was no difference between the Battousai and Kenshin Himura, they were two halves of the same whole, the only difference was that one had found peace in living and the other despair. Had the Battousai ever left Kenshin? No, they could not be taken from each other. The sole difference in the young boy before him and the old rurouni was that one had embraced life with all that it implied, with the pain, the lost, the destruction too, while the other, the Battousai, had forsaken his life, longed for death, thought nothing good or worth living for. The Battousai was always there, even in a part of himself, he mused, but looking on his life he saw all the good and bad and knew, in his heart, that death was the last thing he wanted. To forsake life, even a pain filled one, was to forsake the goodness there too and to give up ever doing or seeing joy again. For death brought nothing, it was a miserable end whereas at least in pain one could find a new beginning._

_He wanted to express these thoughts to the Battousai, wanted to tell him what he knew, what the older rurouni knew even better than he, but no words came._

He frowned, hearing Tokio's breathing that said she was still asleep. What the hell? He took a deep breath, sitting up after a moment and untangling himself from his wife. She needed the sleep, she'd gotten little as of late, but a part of him wanted to wake her up and kiss and hold her until the terrible nightmare left his mind. He grabbed the kimono he'd worn during the day and pulled out his cigarettes. Lighting up a cigarette and taking a soothing drag he glanced about the darkened room, trying to collect his scattered thoughts.

What had it meant? Why had the Battousai given up? What was the ratification behind all the events? Was there even suppose to be any logical? It all looked illogical to him, he thought, starting from the beginning of the dream was the best thing.

He wondered a while on what the significance of him being alone when he encountered the Battousai in the forest of snow meant. He guessed it was something to do with him needing to do this on his own or something…

The fighting made sense for the most part; they had always fought each other like that. But why the pained expression on Battousai's face? And why did he forfeit? It wasn't like the Battousai…no, it wasn't like the rurouni, but the Battousai perhaps if he felt his life not worth living…

There had always been a hopeless, tormented air about the Battousai, a strange longing for death's release…the rurouni he knew had transformed into a man who did not long for death and who would fight against it…at least after the Shishio event. When he'd first encountered the Battousai turned rurouni he'd only been a little different, his will to survive stronger and his desire to do right, etc all still burning, but he had changed as of late. Had it all been because he'd learned the succession technique of Hiten Mitsurugi? Was the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki really that life altering or had he learned it somewhere else along the way?

What was the use of thinking on senseless dreams? He'd always ignored the dreams or night terrors he had of the Bakumatsu, it didn't help to dwell on the past. He snubbed out his cigarette into the ashtray beside the futon and before lying back beside his wife. Tokio was peacefully sleeping tonight, her dark hair spread about the futon, her nemaki half open, her legs pressed together and drawn up.

He smiled, there was no way learning the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki was as life changing as his darling Tokio. He closed his eyes, it was May wasn't it…didn't he have something to do tomorrow?

* * *

"No," he snapped out, "I didn't make any such promises."

"You did," Tokio said, her eyes raging with indignation.

"Pfff, I'm not wasting my day off at some Cherry Blossom crap."

"Cherry Blossom viewing, Goro," she bite out, "you promised we'd go when we returned to Tokyo. It will make me happy…to go."

He frowned, shit she'd pulled her trump card, the vexing little witch. Tokio had slowly been getting better since Teru's death, but when she thought no one was looking he knew she cried and railed against her friend's fate. Slowly she'd started smiling again, started laughing and becoming her old self. If this would help bring his smiling wife back from the brink of suffering…but how much he detested Cherry Blossom viewing!

Squeezing through the crowds of smelly natives and visitors, the unruly brats rubbing their fifth hands on his kimono as he passed, the noise of wails from babies mixed in with shouts from the stupid…grrr…he hated crowds and Cherry Blossom viewing one's in particular. If you were even two minutes late to see the event you'd never find a place to put your blanket and would be reduced to standing at a distance. In all likelihood he'd end up being the one holding the unused blanket as Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi ransacked the basket of food, Tokio too busy being enchanted by the dumb event to stop the children.

He sighed, "I hate you, I hate everything, and I hate Cherry Blossom viewing. We'll go, but if I happen to hack some deserving moron to pieces during the viewing I'm blaming it on you."

So there he was sandwiched between a delighted Tokio and his annoying over excited children. Both of his sons' were chatting away about how they'd never been to a Cherry Blossom viewing as Tokio talked about how pretty the flowers were. Dear Kami he was going to lose what little sanity he had left.

It didn't help that his nerves were already strung tight. First Tsuyoshi had forgotten his sandals at Hiroaki's, though how he'd managed not to noticed something like that was beyond him, and they'd had to make a stop, then Tsutomu had whined and whined until he'd gotten a uiro from Tokio (he'd refused to pay for the ungrateful little brat's sweet addiction), and now because of their stop at Hiroaki's and at the sweet store there was no where for them to set up their blanket.

He glared at his wife, "I knew this was going to happen."

"Hush, Goro-san," his wife said, "I'm trying to watch the flowers."

"Humph," silence wasn't necessity to watch blossoms fall from the trees, he mused in annoyance. He glanced at his children, Tsutomu busily munching away on his sweet as Tsuyoshi stared wide eyed at the falling leaves. He glanced about the area, deciding it was much more entertaining to look at the gathered crowd than the trees.

As always his gaze sought out those who looked like trouble, noting if they were a threat or if they were simply nuisances looking for a good time rather than destruction. His hawk eyed attention found a small commotion, a thin rail of a girl with blue eyes waving some people over to her blanket.

She jogged something in his mind, a vague memory of years ago and seeing who she was with was stranger still. Battousai. He sat smiling, looking ten years older than he remembered, his mannerisms as humble as always, his eyes compassionate, his face crinkled with joy.

The girl beamed happily as a tall western garbed man sat calmly down next to her. Aoshi Shinomori? What was he wearing? He must have decided to go into business or something to dress like a westerner.

He heard the idiot long before he saw him; he came jogging from the direction Shinomori had arrived from. He laughed, sitting beside the Battousai. He looked older, his face more weathered, but with the same carefree attitude. He clearly hadn't shaved in a few weeks and was shoving his mouth full. Beside him bristled the boy no longer a child, what was his name? He was glaring at the idiot, rolling his brown eyes as the older man ruffled his short hair.

Then the Kamiya girl now a woman in age as well as attitude came over. She had gotten prettier with age, he mused, her hair in a neat western fashion, her kimono bright and joyful fitting the occasion, her smiling face reminding him slightly of Tokio's. Perhaps love made one more lovely?

He nearly gave a cry of surprise when he saw the red haired violet eyed bundle in her arms. The boy appeared no more than three or four, about Tsuyoshi's age perhaps? He was wide eyed, his hands stuffed into the sleeves of his blue kimono.

Kamiya sat down next to Himura, handing the boy to him. Laughing he bounced the boy on one knee, replying to something the rooster idiot had asked.

He fumbled getting out a cigarette; this was too much for him. A child? Himura and Kamiya? When had the Battousai…err…old habits died hard…Himura gotten the courage to propose? Or was he born outside wedlock? He lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. Tokio glanced at him with a curious look.

"What's got you so…?"

"I just saw someone I know. I'm going to go talk to him; he has an answer I need. Stay here with the children."

"What?" Without answering her he surged through the crowd of viewers. Surely talking to Himura would be more entertaining than idly staring about in boredom.

He stopped just over the redhead, watching him blink up in surprise as his shadow fell over him. Violet eyes met his golden orbs, surprise turning quickly to wonder and then distrust.

"Saito-san," his voice was as detached and unaffected as he remembered, his emotion blocking techniques from fighting coming out at seeing his old enemy.

"Hello, Battousai," he had wanted to say just to see the irked expression the other would make. Instead he said, "Lovely blossoms aren't they?"

Himura frowned at him, skepticism at his strange appearance and unambiguous words marring his gentle features. "Indeed they are…are you on duty?"

"What the hell do you want?" Idiot piped up before he could voice an answer to Himura's inquiry. "You here for a fight, Saito?"

"I don't go around calling you two those old names in public so don't call me that here. Moron, do I look like I'm here for a fight? I'm not on duty, as a spy or otherwise."

"Ha!" Sano crossed his arms, looking defiant or trying his best to. "And here I was hoping you were really dead. Thanks for proving me wrong, asshole."

Himura was sober, his gaze thoughtful as the one blue eyed girl declared. "Green does not suit you, cop guy."

He rolled his eyes, taking a drag of his cigarette, blaming the poor color choice on Tokio; she'd made him choose a different color then his preferred black or dark blue.

"Who are you?" He demanded, trying to recall if he remembered her name. In fact her voice and manners reminded him of a weasel.

"I'm Misao," she said, "You don't remember me from Shingetsu village?"

"Oh, the weasel girl."

"I'm not a weasel! Don't you dare call me that again!"

He took a drag, meeting her angry eyes, smirking, "Weasel."

"I'm going to kill you!" She tried to jump at him, but Shinomori put a hand on her shoulder and she calmed down. She smiled at him, her eyes bright, "Aoshi-sama…"

He rolled his eyes, "No god can help you if you married the weasel, Shinomori-san."

Aoshi blinked demurely, a small twitch of a smile flicking at the corner of his lips. Misao looked indignant.

Kamiya girl shook her head, "Oh, Misao, don't let him get to you. Saito-san's just a frank person."

"He should learn not to talk if all he ever says is cruel," Misao hissed, glaring at him. Her eyes softened when they fell onto the boy who'd gotten bored of playing with Himura and had taken a seat in his mother's lap. "Kenji-chan, aww, so cute, come to Misao."

"Careful weasel's are stupid creatures, she might drop him."

"Stop talking," Misao snapped, smiling at the boy in her arms, "One day Aoshi-sama and I are going to have little children too. I want a girl so she can marry Kenji-chan."

Aoshi raised an eyebrow as the boy Myojin something or other said, "Pfff, who says Kenji-kun's gonna want to be with your brat, hm? Kenji-kun might just decide to get with someone else."

"Yeah," Sano said with a yawn, rubbing his now full stomach, "He might just decide to get with Yahiko and Tsubame's kid."

"What!" Yahiko stuttered, getting flustered, "I don't know about that…"

"Goro-san," Himura turned his attention away from his bantering friends, his eyes reflecting a critical look of unease, "What are you doing here? I can't imagine you came here out of boredom that I can not."

He flashed a smirk, he liked seeing Himura frustrated and agitated, it was a growing source of amusement for him to see the normally composed rurouni in upheaval. "Oh, dropping by so to speak. You know, I do believe Uramura-san mentioned something to me just the other day that your friend Sanosuke-san wasn't allowed in Japan for some minor convictions…Is that so? Well, then I should arrest him."

Himura's gaze flickered dangerously, a small hint of the ever present Battousai warring in his soul. Sure he'd decided to turn away from death, etc, but the Battousai's quickness to ruffle at insult was still there. Himura's eyes shifted, turning back to the calm rurouni that had disappeared when he'd shown up.

"You're not here for a fight," the rurouni said, "Not with this crowd, you wouldn't. What do you want then, Goro-san?"

He smirked, "Of course I wouldn't hurt the citizenry of Tokyo. I have a question."

"Oro," Himura looked taken aback, violet eyes wide a second before mellowing, "You're not here to arrest Sano then?"

"No," he paused to take a drag, "I heard he was pardoned. What I'm curious about is the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki."

"You want to talk?" Sano asked, looking annoyed. "Don't you already know the move, hm?"

"Of course I know the technique, simpleton," Sano's fist clutched at the insult, he was as easy to irritate as he'd always been. "I'm curious to know what it was you learned when you finally did the succession technique." He met Himura eyes, knowing only he would completely understand what he was asking and how vital it was.

Himura lowered his eyes, his voice when it came was almost meek, "It isn't something I can just explain, you have to experience it. If I told you what it was you would probably laugh at me."

"Don't be ridiculous, tell me what it is," he was getting impatient.

Himura sighed, "No."

He ground his teeth together though his face remained impassive. "Just tell me what I want to know, I don't exactly have all day to sit here."

Himura shook his head then, "Kaoru-dono, I'll take Kenji-chan from you."

Kaoru handed the toddler over and Himura settled the sleeping child on the blanket, placing a haori over him. He was about to demand an answer out of Himura when someone collided into the back of his leg. He dropped his cigarette, watching as the almost completely gone stick fell onto the grass and died a pitiful death.

He snarled as he turned to face the idiot fool enough to crash into him. His eyes landed on Tsutomu with Hachiko pressed to his chest, though why he'd let the boy bring the dog along he didn't know, perhaps because Tokio had convinced him with some futon time…that made sense.

"Whoa, kid, watch out," Idiot said from behind him, "No need to kill the poor thing, Saito, he's just a runt."

"Hey, if I was you I'd get back to your okasan," Yahiko added, looking around for the boy's mother.

"What's your name, little one?" Kaoru asked, smiling encouragingly.

"Tsutomu," he blushed, looking nervous at all the stares directed at him.

"Do you want something," he asked, wondering why Tsutomu had come over. "I thought your okasan was watching you."

"She was, but I asked her if I could come over here. Wataru-kun is a big meanie, he bite me!"

Wataru Washi Takagi (second dumbest name in the world he'd declared when Morinosuke had told him) was his five year old brat, Ozora Bishamon Takagi (first dumbest name in the world) was his three year old, and his youngest Saboro Katsuro Takagi (his name at least made sense, Saboro meaning third son) was just a few months old.

"Did you bite him first?"

"Nah, biting is nasty, I'm not a canineable. I punched him."

"A canineable? You mean a cannibal?"

"Same thing."

"Not, it's not. Canineable isn't a word, Tsutomu, please tell me you didn't say that in front of your okasan?"

"Maybe, I heard Uncle say it."

He raised a brow, was his brother-in-law that mental? It was surprising to think Tokio and her idiotic brother were related.

"Wait a minute," Sanosuke snapped, "You know this little runt?"

"I'm not little!"

"Sure…"

"I'm serious; I'm just eight, besides my Otosan is tall so I'll be tall like him when I get older."

"Is your okasan tall too?"

"I don't know, about that ladies' height I guess," he pointed at Kaoru, "but defiantly taller than that boy," here he pointed at Misao.

"Did you just call me a boy? Why you little shit!" Misao's energetic nature reminded vaguely of Teru and he felt an odd pang in his chest, a longing to see that crazy woman again. He hadn't realized that he'd been affected by Teru so much, hadn't realized with everything that had happened with Tokio that he'd been hurt by Teru's passing as well. It was strange to miss someone. He hadn't felt this way in years, most of his Shinsengumi comrades' hadn't been friends, expect for a few. The last friend he'd lost, he mused, was Okita.

He was startled out of his musings by Tsutomu's shout, "Let go, old hag!"

"Be nicer," Misao blasted.

"Oh, Misao, let the poor boy down, I'm sure he didn't mean it. I remember when Yahiko use to call me that, I'd get so upset, but really he's just a child, much younger than Yahiko, give him a little leeway."

"Yahiko still ain't got any manners," Sano grumbled, looking at Yahiko with a withering glare, "brat still calls me names."

"Age never made you grow up so why should it me?"

"Hahaha, I'm laughing so hard," Sano tried to hit Yahiko, but he held his own. Being older may have made Sano the winner in their scrabbles when Yahiko had been a tad younger but not anymore. They were stale mate, but that was good, too much boasting if one beat the other.

"Otosan get this crazy lady off me!" Tsutomu wiggled violently, dropping Hachiko. The dog settled down by the Kamiya girl, cuddling into her side and demanding to be petted. He had never thought much of dog's loyalty and there it was. "Please…hey lady you smell funny. Like someone took a dump on you."

"I don't care if you're only eight you don't have any manners. I smell like perfume, kid, pretty perfume, right Aoshi-sama? Aoshi-sama?" Here she waved a hand in front of Aoshi's face.

"Aa," Aoshi mumbled.

"A response. See, Aoshi-sama agrees, but that's because Aoshi-sama's the best!"

"Don't care about deaf guy, let me go," Tsutomu whined.

"Aoshi-sama's not deaf, stupid."

"I don't care! Put me down….Otosan help!"

He sighed, grabbing the collar of Tsutomu's juban. He turned the boy around to face him at eye level. "Stop," he paused, taking a puff on the cigarette he'd just lit, "screaming," he blowing smoke out into his son's startled face, "before I kill you."

Tsutomu swallowed before clearing his throat and asking, "You aren't going to hit me again are you?"

"If you persist in irritating the hell out of me…I might…"

"Sorry, Otosan!"

"You better be, kami you'd think you didn't have any manners. Apologize to the weasel."

"The weasel?" He turned his head to look at Misao, laughed, saying, "Oh, she goes look like a weasel!"

"Tsutomu," he warned, dropping the boy on his own legs.

"Sorry, lady, I'm just a brat so says my Otosan!" He smiled brightly before grabbing Hachiko and seeing his brother ran off to bother him. Watching the brat walk off, cigarette titled to the right, he wondered not for the millionth time why he'd had children. Damn Tokio.

"Wait a minutes! Guys didn't the kid call him Otosan?" Sano's mouth was wide open, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

"I don't see the big deal," he grumbled, placing a hand on the hip where his katana rested.

"It's a huge deal! It means…it means…" Sano just continued to shake his head, looking too horror struck to string words together.

"Damn!" Yahiko yelled, "Does that mean he's your kid? As in you…fathered him?"

"No, moron, it means I spat him out, what are you stupid?"

"Man, Yahiko, this means he has a wife!" The whole Kenshin group turned their eyes to him, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette and glaring. "No way would a sane woman marry him! Do you think she's a nun?"

"Himura and I were wondering the same thing when we heard, Sano," Misao piped in, "I think she's Buddha."

"Has to be!"

"Right?"

"This one thinks she's a saint."

"Oh, Ken-san, she has to be like a whole cluster of saints to deal with him," Megumi added, appearing behind him.

He raised a dark brow at her, "Where did you come from?"

"I was talking with an old friend from Aizu," Megumi replied, "So you're really married?"

"Humph."

"Koishii?" They all turned to see Tokio standing to their left. She smiled gently, "I didn't know you're acquainted with Megumi-san."

"Tokio Takagi-san's your wife," Megumi stared in shock, going pale.

"Her last name is Fujita, thank you very much," he corrected.

"Whoa, you never said you're wife was beautiful," Sano stood and smiled, "Fujita-san, I'm Sanosuke Sagara, nice to meet ya. I'm really sorry."

"Sorry about what?"

"You having to endure married life with this guy, I mean I can barely stand ten minutes. Are you by chance a saint?"

"Sagara-san, you said?"

"Right."

"You want to know the chief reason I'm married to him."

Saito raised a brow at this, Himura, Kamiya, Yahiko, Megumi all leaned closer and Aoshi remained unmovable.

"What?" Yahiko demanded when she didn't answer right away.

She smiled, "He's really good at satisfying certain needs."

He snorted, "I should have known you'd say that."

Himura gave an oro, Kaoru blushed, Yahiko started stuttering about things young people shouldn't be told about, Megumi looked taken aback, Sano laughed before looking ill, and Aoshi raised an eyebrow as he opened his eyes and looked Tokio up and down with an expression that said he hadn't suspected a mild looking lady like Tokio to talk like that.

Tokio laughed, looking amused for a long moment before composing her features. "Goro, how come Tsutomu said you were starting fights?"

He dropped his finished cigarette on the ground, "I didn't do anything, the brat just offended the weasel."

"The weasel?"

"Misao," Yahiko said with a laugh, a kunai wheezed past his head as he ducked, "way too close, Misao, you know I'm just teasing. How come you don't throw those at Saito, eh?"

"No one asked you to comment, Yahiko-chan!"

"Hey, I'm way too old for that!"

"Doesn't seem like it," Misao taunted.

"Goro?"

"What?"

"Are these people your friends?"

"Pfff, how can I dignify that with a response?"

"Koishii, I think we should go now, the children are getting restless and I'm getting bored."

"Oh, so the trees are losing their interest now, hm? I hate Cherry Blossom viewing," he turned away from the group, "Let's get the hell out of here before I lose what little bit of sanity I still process and mass murder everyone."

"Asshole," Sano yelled after him. Damn, he thought, he still hadn't gotten an answer from Himura, but he supposed that could wait for another day. Ah, next time he'd taunt the Battousai side of Himura instead, he was more witty than the rurouni side.

* * *

Japanese Words To Know This Chapter:

Kazoku-hereditary peerage bestowed from 1869 to 1947 by the Meiji government (Kataharu Matsudaira was a Viscount)

Hope everyone likes this long chapter! It has Kenshingumi in it! More about Takao later, Saito's being paranoid. Poor Teru, feels bad about her dying. The historical Teru did actually die in 1884, not so sure about Kataharu and Nobunori coming to her wake though, I just included them because I wanted too, lol. R&R.


	52. Chapter 52: Tokyo, 1885, Part 1

Sure they'd been fighting more often than usual but did that mean they had relationship problems? It definitely seemed like that was what everyone was saying.

First Morinosuke with, "Hey, onna, how come you never smile anymore, eh? Is it the kids or your crappy husband?"

Hiroshi had commented one evening, "Tokio-san, you sure look down, do you have a headache?"

Katamori had come over on his rare visits and said, "Tokio-chan, you are not looking so well, does…does it have to with Teruhime?"

Even stupider than a bag of rocks Chou had said one evening when Tokio had invited him over for tea, "Yo, Fujita-san, you're husband got you working overtime or what?"

Hiroaki just the other day had remarked to Tokio as they walked through the market, "You alright, Tokio, something on your mind?"

What the hell had happened? He'd thought maybe it was Teruhime that had gotten her down, but she'd seemed herself again just before this. Was it the new girl living with them that was causing problems? The new girl living with them was a good student, Tokio had said, and quite respectful. He'd seen nothing from Nagisa to suspect otherwise.

Now he held this letter in one hand, still folded close as he finished off his cigarette. The folded paper was unsigned, not telling him who it was for, but his guess was his wife as he'd found it under their futon.

He took a long drag on his cigarette, rubbed it out in the ashtray, and flipped the letter open.

_Dearest,_

_Meet me there at midnight on the seventeenth, same place we always go. Are you absolutely sure he doesn't know? When can I next see you? I've been counting down the days. I promise you our secret will be safe. I hope you find this letter I'm writing you today, this will be the last words that I put down. We'll be together after this, no more secrets, no more lies, no more him to get in the way. Remember, midnight on the seventeenth we leave for Osaka._

_Ai shiteru,_

_TK_

The words jumped over and over in his head. _Are you absolutely sure he doesn't know? Midnight, the seventeenth? Osaka? Ai shiteru?_ He reread the letter, thinking he'd given it a perverse meaning. Who was TK? Takao Kumai? No…just no…was it anyone else he knew?

If it had been Morinosuke he'd have used the more affectionate koi shiteru, Hiroshi would have more rigid handwriting, Katamori was much more elegant and his letters more formal. And none of them would have signed it TK, unless that was an alias…

Tokio was planning on running off with some person to Osaka? Leaving him? Divorcing him… His blood ran cold with fury, no, apparently she wasn't even bothering with a divorce. Leave him for some young moron after all these years. Had it meant nothing to her? Had there been no happiness for her? Surely there had been, how could she have faked it all these years? Maybe she felt lonely after Teru's death and he'd been working more hours than normal and they'd been arguing more…was that it? He hadn't been observant enough to see her unhappiness these pass few months?

He stood, deciding to head into work early today. He tucked the letter into his breast pocket and scribbling a quick note to his wife telling her. He slipped his cap on and buttoned the top button as he left the stifling house. He was grateful that when he'd read the letter Tokio had been out with the children.

He walked briskly, trying to think of anything but that damned letter. Surely he was taking it the wrong way? That had to be it, he'd overreacted as usual. He was positive that when he marched into the police station he'd beaten his record time at getting there from home. He stopped briefly at Chou's desk, seeing the former Juppongatana snoring softly as he leaned on one arm. He slapped his hat sharply on the tabletop, watching grimly as Chou sat up straight, blinking groggily at him as he passed by.

"Man, Fujita-san, no need to be a rude ass, em," Chou bite out in annoyance, leaning back on his elbow. He saw Chou turn his head to look at him, a puzzled look on his face at not getting yelled at a second time. Shrugging he slumped all the way onto his desk.

Entering his office and setting his police cap on the hanger used for coats and such was a relief that felt strange to him. He didn't hate his work, it had its benefits, at times it was even enjoyable, but being home with his family had a special appeal that work didn't. Having gone so long without a home full of loving family members during his Shinsengumi years he'd taken to spending hours at the Shinsengumi headquarters instead. Now that he had a family he couldn't wait to be home basking in the warmth that the heretic atmosphere of the department lacked. He appreciated the busy bustle from the station outside his door and the sound of the city beyond his window a lot more as he sat down at his desk.

The papers waiting to be filed out at his desk begged him to take them up. He felt relief at the prospect of work as he started to do the reports where usually he couldn't stand filling out all the tedious blanks on the paper. He scribbled away ferociously; checking and sometimes double checking to make sure things were signed and dotted.

Having gotten through most of the paperwork he stopped for a smoking break. Not liking the fact that smoking a cigarette gave him too much time to think he went to the door leading to the station and called Chou inside.

Chou leaned on one leg, looking at him with an expression of half anxiety, half amusement.

"What ya need, Fujita-san?"

"How is the Suzuki Case?"

"Right…which Suzuki case? I think we have three ongoing with that name."

"The one with the ten year old found dead."

"Oh that one!" Chou paused a moment, thinking.

While the idiot was using all his brain power to remember the case he was busy thinking of the letter again. When had Tokio had time to get a lover anyway? If the children weren't taking up her time, it was the school, or the pupils needing help after hours, or she was spending time at home. Wait a second…did Tokio really met her pupils after school? That was the only logical place she could have secretly met a lover behind his back.

"Makai-san, the girl's father, claims he was out drinking with some friends that evening. We checked into it," Chou shrugged, "man was with his friends all night. Sanae-san's mother, Ruka-san lives in Niigata."

"Are Makai-san and Ruka-san divorced," he asked, taking a drag on his cancer stick, the question igniting images of Tokio with a handsome man in Osaka while he and the children were left behind.

"Eh…don't know, didn't bother looking at that part of the file," Chou admitted, sheepishly, sure he was going to get yelled at for incompetence now.

He frowned, "Bring Makai-san in for some questions. Any siblings?"

"Just the girl."

"Other relatives?"

"An uncle, but he lives in Kyoto." Chou turned to leave when Saito didn't make a move, wondering what was wrong with Saito today as he reached the door.

"Oh and Chou?" He stopped, waiting for the scathing sarcasm and scolding for not doing his proper duty. When Saito was silent he turned his head and looking at him thoughtfully.

"Interrogate Makai-san," was all he said as he picked up his pen and began the last bundle of reports.

His eyes particularly popped out of his head. What? Saito never let anyone but himself interrogate the suspects, especially not any of his cases, because he felt others didn't handle it right. What the hell?

"Are you sure," was this some kind of prank? Pranks weren't exactly Saito's style, but it made more sense than him actually letting him interrogate the criminals.

"Get to it," Saito snapped, ignoring him for his paperwork.

His throat grew tight; he was a dead man walking. He left Saito's office and found Yasuyo busy filling out a form or other. "Hey, kid," he said, leaning on Yasuyo's desk, "How you doing?"

"I'm good, Chou-san, and I'm only your junior by a couple years so please don't refer to me as kid. You?"

"Great I think. Anyway, how'd you like to interrogate old Makai Suzuki-san? Fujita-san's a little busy right now."

Yasuyo stopped his scribbling, his eyes turning up to look at Chou with unmasked concern. "Fujita-san wants you to interrogate Makai-san?"

"No, he wants you to do it, buddy," Chou laughed casually, hoping Yasuyo took the bait.

Yasuyo was too smart for his own good, "Why would he ask you to do something he regularly does? He even came in early today…strange…" Yasuyo tapped his pen against his desk, not looking pleased with what his brain was obviously concluding. "Did you do something awful?"

"Nah, I haven't even bugged the guy for a week, I had a couple days off and spent it…well…um…police station isn't exactly the best place to discuss what I was doing…right."

Yasuyo seemed less concerned with what illegal things Chou had been up to than Saito's reasoning for having them interrogate the criminals. "You do it, Chou; I'm not taking your punishment. Perhaps, Fujita-san found out about what you do on your time off, hm?"

"Ya think so?" Chou looked horrified for a moment before composing himself, "No way. I been real smart about it."

"You do forget that Fujita-san's way smarter than you."

"That's just mean."

"Well, the truth can be harsh. I really should get back to filling this out," Yasuyo said, turning his head back to his work. "Sorry, Chou."

"You ain't sorry one bit!" Chou snapped, looking annoyed, "Damn it, if I die because of this I'm haunting you, Yasuyo."

"You should really haunt Fujita-san, he's the one going to kill you," Yasuyo remarked as he watched Chou leave the station to go get Makai.

* * *

"So that's what I'm saying, Fujita-san," Chou said, shaking his head vigorously, his hair surprisingly remaining in form. "He's just ain't right lately, all out of sorts and what not. I mean just three days ago he had _me_ who he doesn't even trust with desk work most of the time interrogate a criminal. Now does that seem right to you, Fujita-san?"

"No, it doesn't," Tokio said, frowning.

Saito had been acting a little strange lately; she just hadn't been able to put a finger upon it. All her married years to him and she'd never seen him being so bizarre. Had he figured out her secret which she'd been carrying for a few weeks now? Surely not.

"Thank you for coming over, Chou-san, and telling me about your concern. I'll talk to him, you should probably go now. He'll be home soon and I don't want him catching you here."

"Catching who here?" They both turned with startled expressions to see Saito in the doorway. She'd been so preoccupied with the conversation and her worries that she hadn't heard the reason for her turmoil come into the house. Then again he was a particularly quiet person when he needed to be.

"Just me," Chou said nervously, both wondering how much of the conversation he'd picked up. Hopefully only the last sentence or so.

Once Chou was gone she watched her husband for any signs that he'd heard more than the last words. His expression was grave, but that was a permanent fixture on his face these last couple days so it told her nothing. Sitting seiza brought out the stiffness in his shoulders, she noticed as she inched closer to him on the floor. She pressed her hands to his shoulder blades beneath the uniform, smiling as she placed a soft kiss to his taunt neck.

Saito shrugged her hands off, turning his neck away from her kiss. She blinked in confusion, her husband was usually very receiving to her attentions and she'd anticipated him to be that way after having gone four days without. He stood suddenly, throwing her even more off balance, "I'm going to sleep."

She watched him leave in bewilderment. Maybe this was just a game? Did he want her to follow him? She sat for a while, uncertain of what to do. She found herself absently wondering if this is what Yaso had gone through. A non-responsive husband, cold and disinterested in her, only caring for his work and another woman.

She shuddered, her overly stressed brain was getting the best of her. Saito had proven his faithfulness for years so why was a small speck of doubt entering her thoughts now? Merely because he'd never rejected her before, she mused, there was nothing else going on. He was probably just overly exhausted from all the work he was doing lately, some case or other keeping him up late.

* * *

Tokio frowned, checking the time again. Where was he? He'd left at early dawn and no one had seen him since. She's assumed when he'd left this morning that he'd been going to work, but Chou had stopped by a few hours after he'd gone and asked her if he was coming into work today. If he hadn't gone to work where was he? She was getting frantic, she'd gone to everyone's house from Katamori to Hiroaki's in search of him, but none had seen him since yesterday. Hiroaki had taken the children when he'd seen the distress on her face, saying he'd keep them in order and let her only concern be the whereabouts of her husband.

Where was Saito? The clock inched closer and closer to midnight, the ticks the only noise besides her breathing in the house. She lit another lantern, positioning it by the opened shoji screen. If he came in and she didn't hear him at least she'd see him walk by.

She bite her lip nervously, this was so unlike him. Was he out doing work for Kiyotaka? Maybe, but he would have told her in advance, right? The sudden sound of someone coming into the house made her look up, relief flooding her face. Oh, he was going to get so scolded for this!

But when she saw his figure through the shoji all previous words that she had been about to say dissipated. He swayed on his feet, his head turning from side to side as he looked about the room. He took a drink from the jug he clasped in one hand.

She stood as he sat down against the wall, one leg propped up as he gulped from the jug. She set the lantern down, catching the unmistakable smell of sake coming off him. "Koishii?"

Amber eyes watched her like the predatory eyes of a wolf, his cold gaze made her shiver with a sudden bout of fear. Usually there was a kind of warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, a tenderness that was devoid in those glowing orbs now. He cocked his head to the side, one slender eyebrow rising. She swallowed, aware that this was the infamous Mibu third unit captain calmly drinking sake in front of her. All the times Saito had said he was a violent drunk and the comments that she shouldn't trust him rose to her panicked mind. She ground her teeth together, he was still her husband, drunk or not, there was no reason to feel intimidated. The Wolf of Mibu he'd once been wouldn't allow any dishonorable behavior even as inebriated as he was.

"Koishii, why have you been drinking? It's not like you…" She trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

"Well, neither of us have exactly been ourselves," he bite out, his eyes turning distant.

"I sup…suppose," she mumbled, feeling sheepish.

"Since when do you stutter?" He asked, taking a drink from the jug as she stared in puzzlement.

She flushed, unsure of what to do. What should she say? Maybe it would be better if she left him alone. "I'm going," she said, "you're not sensible right now."

"Stop," he grabbed her kimono sleeve. "I'm making perfect sense. Sit."

She hesitated a moment longer before yanking her sleeve from his grasp and sitting next to him. "Koishii, what's gotten into you?"

He huffed, pulling out his pocket watch from Hijikata. "Hm," he said as he flicked the case open with two fingers, cocking his head to the side as he saw the time. "Midnight," he grunted.

"What?"

"It's midnight, Tokio."

"I know that, I mean what's important about twelve o'clock?"

"Nothing, not tonight anyway. Tomorrow."

"What's going on tomorrow?"

He sighed, a sound that startled her because it was so unlike him. It seemed almost pensive. "Go to bed," he grumbled, twisting the jug in his hands. "I'm going to finish this."

"You shouldn't stay up drinking alone. You get moody," she said, knowing it was true. When he drank, as rare as it was, it was usually because Nagakura or Kai wouldn't let him just drink tea. But they weren't here now to give him solace when his drunken thoughts twisted towards gloom as they always did. There was order even in his drunkard attitude, first he'd be happy, sad, and then angry. The first was actually alright in her book, Saito acting as happy as he felt was a rare delight, but the second state made her feel bad for him. She never knew how to comfort him when he was deliriously sad from drink; it had always been Nagakura and Kai who had seen to him at those times. The last usually was a minor thing, mostly some angry words before she'd put him to bed.

"Humph," annoying how he could still humph at things even so far gone. Last time he'd given her some sake (she shuddered recalling how lewd Saito had said she'd been) she hardly remembered being able to string more then two words together as if she was a toddler again.

"Come to bed with me."

"No. It's not like you want me there."

She blinked surprised, wondering if his inebriated state was making him sound like Tsuyoshi when he complained that she didn't give him enough attention.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Me? Nothing," he laughed bitterly, pouring sake down the front of his kimono as he took a swig from the jug. "You though…I wish I knew."

She stood angrily; she wasn't in the mood to put up with this right now. Ignoring her husband she left the room. The bedroom was quiet as she lay down, her hair pins taken out and nemaki already on from earlier when she'd tried to distract herself from her worry for her husband.

What was so distressing for him? Why had he turned to sake to relieve himself, instead of her? Why did it feel like they couldn't talk to each other lately?

She heard noise in the other room as she tried restlessly to sleep, some thumping that sounded particularly loud in the nearly silent house, cursing and sound of something tearing. Frowning she shook her head, burying it deeper in the covers. Ignoring him while he stumbled around the living room was best.

* * *

Standing on the threshold between her bedroom and the living space in the morning sun she was surprised by the sight before her. It was almost worse than seeing a mutilated body. A lacquered table lay on its side against the fusuma, missing two legs. A perfectly good lantern had been stepped on, probably violently. One fusuma bore short and long steaks across it's upper portion where someone had taken great fun in carving it up with a katana. The shoji leading into the kitchen was half off it's' frame, punctuated from a large hole in the shape of a body. A small bloody strain spattered the middle of the kitchen floor, she noticed immediately as she walked into the kitchen. Examining it closely she was grateful he hadn't torn this room up like the other. The shoji leading outside was open, clearly the way he'd left. She shut it and went back to the living room.

All this work on her night off…stupid sake drinking husband. And where was her husband anyway?


	53. Chapter 53: Tokyo, 1885, Part 2

Tokio sighed, watching as Hiroshi finished patching up the last hole in the shoji. She smiled as he came over and sat down next to her. Fishing in his old kimono he'd worn to do the dirt work he pulled out his watch. He quirked a brow, "We made good time cleaning this mess."

"We did. I don't know what we're going to do about the fusuma though," she remarked, wondering what they could do about the katana marks. Maybe they needed to buy a new fusuma? Or she could cover it up with a wall hanging, perhaps the one in their bedroom?

"I wouldn't worry about it," Hiroshi said, shaking his head. "Too much trouble to get it replaced, just leave it, besides it makes a good tale to tell, no?"

She laughed at the poor joke; it really wasn't something she wanted to share with anyone. "Tsu-kun and Yoshi-kun are with Hiroaki-san for the rest of the day, right?"

"I didn't want them to see the house like this. Hiroaki-san said he'd entertain them for the day and keep them another night so that I could get this place back into shape."

"I never would have suspected his brother to be such a nice guy," Hiroshi smiled and grew sober as he asked what he'd been hinting at. "Any idea where he might be?"

"We've looked everywhere."

She leaned on her elbow, bothered by the idea that no one could find Saito. Morinosuke when he'd found out about the destroyed room and his disappearance had nearly gone ballistic, he'd said he wouldn't help with the search and that if Saito ever came back to their house he'd kick his ass. She had the feeling Morinosuke was still reeling from the idea that Saito might have hurt her the other night. She had told him he hadn't, but her brother wouldn't listen.

Katamori had been extremely surprised to hear Saito had lost his cool, but had quickly vowed to put his resources to good use in finding him. Hiroshi had helped her rebuild the room while his current lady friend, Tomoko, was inquiring with some of her good Meiji official friends about his whereabouts.

If there was one thing she knew about her husband it was this: if he didn't want to be found he wouldn't. He knew how to cover his tracks, knew how to keep a low profile, and he knew they'd be looking. The hunt was on and she was weary, she wasn't a Miburo like her husband, he enjoyed the hunt, but she detested long searches and agonizing hours of wait. She had patience, which had been bred into her being at a young age because of her upbringing, but she couldn't endure this for days on end and not lose her sanity. If anything Saito should return for their children, right?

Damn stupid husband. She needed to see him, needed him to know she didn't begrudge him the destruction of their living room, all she wanted was to know what was bothering him and see him back to himself.

* * *

Taro grinned as he sat on the stairs before his house. He had heard the destruction Saito had done last night in the Fujita residence. Truthfully it didn't surprise him or really half the neighborhood so he couldn't understand why Saito's closest companions were so stunned by it.

Taro stuck a hand into his trouser pocket, idly fiddling with the pocket watch therein. It wasn't nearly time yet, but he was restless, almost anxious. If they didn't make their move soon Saito could return hoping to reconcile with Tokio. And that would be bad because it would defeat all they're planning. The bribing, the preparation, the packing would all shatter if Saito came back. Or if they waited too long.

Where was she? He sighed, leaning on his arm. Takao laughed, coming out of the house behind him. "Cheer up, you look like someone died."

He smiled and waved the comment off. If she wasn't there someone would be dead.

* * *

Katamori's lips, usually smiling, were pursed into a frown as he looked at the man before him. He reached for his tea, sipping the hot liquid slowly to prevent burning his tongue. The man didn't bother even looking at his tea cup.

"Saito-kun."

"Katamori-sama," he said automatically, eyes somber as his hands shifted a little on his knees.

"You need to go home."

Saito's eyelashes lowered, nearly touching his cheeks as he said, "I can't."

"You need to. Tokio-san will understand."

"She won't," he looked up at Katamori, his expressionless composure gone a moment. All Katamori saw was the same troubled boy from his younger years. As he gazed into those lean features and confused eyes he hoped this time around he would say the right thing. He had a life in his hands which he refused to fail again.

"She loves you; no doubt she's already forgiven you."

"How can she forgive me? I destroyed a part of our home, I…I almost let my rage consume me…I wanted to hurt her…even if it only lasted a few seconds…I thought about killing her."

"It isn't Tokio-san you were mad at. She'll―."

"You don't understand!" Saito's voice raised just a notch but it was enough to baffle Katamori. All his knowledge of Saito's personality was being tested today. No indifference, no overwhelming self-worth, no taunting smirks and biting words. All his confidence, all his assured importance, had all been dashed upon the rocks of a shore Katamori could not even begin to comprehend. There was something so troubling to him that he had thrown away all his other qualities at the moment to understand it.

"Katamori-sama, I have always…" He paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before resuming. "I've always strived to master myself. It was the Hatamoto incident that…that I learned what my true road block was. My rage, my anger, it always controlled me, drove me to do irrational things, stupid things, almost evil things… If you had not helped put me on the right path that day..."

Katamori, his eyes stern, said, "You think you're devilish rage would have made you harm innocent people."

"More then that." Saito's lip twitched and he shook his head. "I still fear that my anger will become me, that it will devour the goodness in me, and destroy all I've worked for in the name of Aku Soku Zan."

Katamori sighed, lifting his tea cup and sipping it as he pondered a solution. Letting the servant beside him pour him a full cup he said, "We all have demons we must master, Saito, none of us are free of fearing things. I remember when Teru-chan died, I was consumed by sorrow. Some of us are beleaguered with pain, others with anger, and some with regret. It is an accursed thing our willingness to succumb to our poisonous weaknesses; as long as we face our fear head on we can overcome it. I will repeat my earlier advice, running away now will not clear your concern over your anger and Tokio-san and the children will only be burdened by your absence."

"But what I if I can't win? What if I get angry again and drink. I couldn't stand living with myself if I hurt Tokio or the children in my rage."

The small smile that had tugged at Katamori's lips a moment ago vanished as he eyed the other man thoughtfully. "There is more to this then your rage, isn't there, Saito-kun?"

He turned his head away from the other man's straightforward eyes. "That's not the problem at hand."

"But it's part of the reason for your anger. Let it out, Hajime-kun, it's just me, you can trust me."

"Humph," Saito blinked at him a few times, "I don't trust anyone." His harsh words hurt Katamori and he knew it, but he couldn't care less at the moment. "There will always be reasons for my anger, that isn't my problem. How can I master it when it does come?"

Katamori was silent a moment, taking a bite out of a tea cake as he frowned and tried to ignore the sting of Saito's words. Words spoken in anger were rarely heart felt, but often emotion ridden releases aimed at taunt when someone feared their own weaknesses would be brought to light.

"Perhaps you and Tokio are the one's who should be having this talk, not you and I. It seems to be, of what you said of that night, that most of your pent up anger is directed at her. To learn to master our emotions we must first be able to communicate not only with others but ourselves. Clearly you've been neglecting Tokio and your own emotions. Shoving your other emotions aside as inconsequential isn't going to help you better understand your anger."

"Shut up," Saito nearly yelled, one hand reaching up and running through his sleeked back hair. "I'm leaving."

"Saito-kun," Katamori said, rising as Saito leapt to his feet. "How is running away, quitting, going to help you or Tokio-san?"

"What the hell do you know about helping? You didn't actually help your damn sister! This was a stupid idea!"

Katamori looked hurt, saying softly, "You're right." Saito stopped, nearly at the door. He turned around sharply, his eyes meeting Katamori's sad ones. "I didn't help her, no medicine could have. I didn't even help her passing away emotionally any better. I think when she went she hated me."

Saito reached inside his jacket and yanked out his cigarettes. He knew Katamori didn't like smoking in his residence, but he didn't care right now.

Feeling emotionally weary, he mumbled as he lit it, "She didn't hate you, Teru-san was just angry at the circumstances." Katamori gave him a glowing smile and he realized only a second later that he'd stumbled into a trap. "Pfff, so what? You want me to acknowledge that I'm not angry at Tokio, but the situation, hm?"

Katamori gestured for him to sit back down as he resumed his own seat and took a few gulps of tea. Taking quick drags and puffing out the smoke in annoyance he wondered how Katamori had become so good at reading people. The man had always had a knack for it, he supposed, thinking back to how easily Katamori had read him back when they'd first met.

Grumbling a bit as he sat back in seiza he said stiffly, "I will admit that I'm more pissed at the situation than Tokio. I…well…I guess talking about the current circumstances would be…beneficial, you could give better advice." Pulling out the dreaded letter he handed it to Katamori. He finished the cigarette as Katamori was reading and put it out in the tea cup. Katamori set the letter down, calmly regarded him with a somber expression that didn't fit his face.

"You know it's much easier for people to look at situations when they don't have an emotion attachment to them."

"Hm."

"Let's try and be…rational about this letter. Who do we know named TK?"

"Takao Kumai," he grunted out, nostrils flaring involuntarily with anger.

"Takao-san is a good candidate, but there must be others," Katamori said with serenity. "What about Tsukiko, her teaching friend who sometimes she spends the evening with? Her last name I believe is Kagabu. Or Tamaki Kan, her old childhood friend from Aizu. I heard she's still living and Tokio still writes to her from time to time. Teruko Kamoika, she works at the teahouse and is Yasuyo's lady friend."

"Enough, Katamori-sama. We both know it's a love letter, why deny it by claiming a female wrote it? I thought you wanted me to face this head on?"

Katamori's smile didn't falter, "I'm merely trying to make you understand. Think of it like this, if there's hesitation in who the writer is then why not the content?"

"What are you talking about? Speak plainly."

"What if the letter was forged?"

"Forged?" Saito's brow furrowed, "You mean you think some one planted it there?"

"It makes sense. There is only one letter right? Well, if they are lovers, shouldn't there be more correspondence?"

"I just figured she burned the rest or got rid of them somehow."

"Never pass judgment until all venues have been thoroughly looked though. Isn't that a good idea?"

"Always sound advice." Saito frowned, "Who would have put it there and why? It doesn't add up."

"It makes sense if it's someone who wants to hurt you by killing Tokio-san," Katamori set his cup down. "Perhaps it's an old enemy wanting to get back at you?"

Saito hastily pulled out his pocket watch, his attention firmly placed on the slow movement of the hour hand. It chimed at eight o'clock as the small hand hit the twelve. "We have four hours until midnight. They're probably making their move on the time they wrote the meeting. They figured I'd be out of the house, waiting at the train station or something."

"Exactly."

"Shit."

"Better get to work, officer," Katamori said as he stood, "Oh and we'll talk about your feelings another time, hm?"

"No."

"Bye, Saito-kun!"

"Goro."

"What, Saito-kun?"

"Damn it," his footsteps dwindled into silence as Katamori picked his tea up and downed it. Glancing at Saito's unfinished cup with the cigarette butt he blinked, saying to the servant, "I thought the tea was delicious, Kiki-san, I don't see why Saito-kun wasted it."

* * *

Saito came running through the shoji and into the living room. Five pairs of eyes set on him. Tokio's expression was surprised; Hiroaki's a mixture of anger and satisfaction, and Yukiko's boredom as she leaned sleepily on her father's arm. Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi both came barreling into his legs.

"Otosan," Tsuyoshi cried.

"Snake head," his eldest hollered, "Where have you been?"

Staring into the wide brown orbs of one and then the golden hues of the other he was speechless. Ruffling Tsutomu's hair first, he then patted Tsuyoshi's shoulder before giving both of them firm embraces. Letting them go, he said simply, "Bed now."

They looked disappointed before scampering off to bed, stifling yawns as they went. He turned to the three pairs of eyes left, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. He said as he approached, "Tokio, I promise for as long as we're married I'll never drink again."

"Don't make promises you can't or won't keep," Hiroaki snapped, his usually warm eyes hard as flint.

Saito eyed his brother with caution, aware of the tension in his brother's body just by a quick once over. Hiroaki may have been the more friendly of the Yamaguchi household, but he had the same temper and anger problems all three children had inherited from Yusuke. He snarled, "Stay out of my life. I wasn't addressing you."

Hiroaki's brown eyes narrowed, making his face resemble Yusuke's more then he'd ever noticed. The white in his hair, the deep lines on his face, and the thin eyes all made him think of Yusuke. Yusuke had been a stern father, an unsympathetic person, and a good samurai. He found thinking about his father made him angry; he tended not to think back that far. He preferred thinking about the bloody Bakumatsu over his turbulent childhood.

"Don't fight," Tokio said, looking nervous. She wasn't use to seeing Hiroaki's temper, he was always so light hearted and playful, especially kind to the children too.

"Why I'm surprised you even came back," Hiroaki said, throwing his head back, his eyes gleaming. "You always liked to run away from your problems. I use to think you killed that Hatamoto so you could get away from father."

He bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his facial composure, but losing all inward control. "You have no right to talk to me about the past," he spoke lowly, hearing the anger just under the surface. Damn his anger was getting the better of him; it was so frustrating to not be able to keep his patience.

"I think I have the most right," Hiroaki gnashed his teeth together as he glared. "I mean we all know Tokio-san won't, she's too damn considerate of your bloody feelings to ever call you on any thing. Lately it's like she has to tip toe around you, what the hell kind of relationship is that, hm? Not a good one, asshole. Damn it, Hajime, what happened?"

His anger bristling through out Hiroaki's rant took a spiraling shot upward by the end of his brother's spat. Clutching his fist he punched Hiroaki in the face. Yukiko stirred awake as Hiroaki fell onto his back, staring up at him with a repulsed countenance as he got lumbering to his feet. Rubbing his cheek with one palm he grabbed Yukiko by the arm and hauled her out the still open shoji.

Tokio silently closed the shoji before turning back to him, her face curiously blank. He'd expected annoyance at least, anger at his actions maybe, or repulsion at her horrible choice for a husband at worst.

He was silent also, finding no words to say to redeem himself in her eyes. Heck he wasn't even sure redemption was possible at this point.

"Koishii," there she went and used that term. He had to admit the endearment had grown on him and he especially liked that she never used it on anyone else. Once and a while she'd call one of the children it but that was rare. He liked the specific tones in which she said it, such tenderness and raw adoration. He was a bit surprised to hear it come out exactly as normal. "I know things have been…well…um…stranded between us lately."

His throat tightened, was she going to confess about her lover now and tell him she was going to leave to go meet him in about two hours and a half? Had everything Katamori and he had thought just an hour ago wrong?

She continued in a strong tone now, more confident, her shoulders pushing back straighter. "I'm not angry about the room. I'm angrier that you left. I…I love you, Koishii; you have no idea how worried I was for you. I had no idea what kind of state you were in when you left, I saw blood on the floor…I'm just happy your not hurt."

He blinked, surprise crossing his face before contorting into a frown, "I thought you wouldn't want me back."

"Don't you know me better by now? I would never wish you gone."

He ran a hand over his nose and eyes, thinking hard as a scowl peeled over his features. He pulled out the letter and hastily handed it to her. "What's this then, hm? You don't want me gone, you say, but this says differently."

Tokio's gentle smile of a second ago vanished as she took the letter and read. She shrugged, "A love letter written to Nagisa-san?"

"What?"

"Well, you know Takao Kumai-san? He has a younger brother named Taro-san who has taken a liking to Nagisa-san."

"But…" his scowl faded in his confusion, "but why was it under our futon?"

"I put it there after I found it in Nagisa-san's room. I've thankfully talked her out of running away with the scoundrel, what kind of life would that be? Homeless and penniless, begging for scrapes and having the whole world against her because she lives with Taro unmarried? And to leave her family, she'd regret it after wards, mark me."

"But what about the part where it talks about a man not knowing?"

"Oh, that's in reference to her father. He disapproves of Taro-san."

"Shit."

"I'm a little confused as to what this letter has to do with anything…"

"I thought Takao Kumai-san had become your lover."

Tokio's eyes went wide, her startled expression making him feel horrible. It had all just been his wild imagination.

"You're an idiot."

"I think I've just been foolish lately."

"I can't believe you thought that!" She became livid with indignation, "I never slept with you while you were married to Yaso-san, did I? No, so how could you possibly think I'd be unfaithful because…of…of some handsome neighbor?"

He grimaced, "I was weak."

"You're an ass."

"Sorry…it's just you're so beautiful and I'm―."

"Don't give me that bull crap excuse of I'm too good for you so it's only logical that I'd cheat. Not true one bit. I married you because I love you, there's no way in hell I'd leave you, especially not for some boy like Takao-san. I already have two sons, I don't want a childish husband."

"I'm relieved," he grumbled.

"Humph. Oh, Hajime, there's something I've been meaning to mention."

"What? I'm sure it's no worse then what I've conjured in my own imagination."

"I'm pregnant again. It's defiantly your fault."

"What?" He asked aghast, this was by far worse.

* * *

Good guesses bunzi and invisible-gurl about the pregnancy, I suppose that one was fairly oblivious if you know your history. As for the letter I did consider having a whole plot around it, like someone planted it, but then I figured it would be funnier if it was all a big misunderstanding. Also I didn't want to linger in the 85's as more intriguing stuff happens in 1886 and 1887, you'll know what I'm talking about if you know historical Saito. Anyway, R&R as always, thanks.


	54. Chapter 54: Tokyo, 1886, Part 1

Most of this chapter actually takes place in 1885, expect for the last scene which takes place in 1886. Enjoy and R&R.

* * *

Saito came into the house, an annoyed expression on his face as he sat down.

"I take it that it didn't go well," she remarked as she gulped her tea.

"They want way too much to add another room. It was ridiculous," he rolled his eyes, digging into the steaming soba before him.

"We can't put them all in the same room," she stated.

"Well, my solution still stands."

"You're _solution_ to kick Nagisa-san out was stupid. We're not doing it."

"It would solve our problems," he said before slurping a noodle.

"Oh stop, you're not helpful," she mumbled, dropping her shoulders a little as her face became thoughtful.

Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi raised quizzical glances at their parents, neither quite understanding the fuss their parents were making. Tsutomu had the vague impression that this was a bad thing, but Tsuyoshi seemed indifferent, happily shoveling soba into his eager month.

"What are you talking about, Okasan," asked Tsutomu, knowing he was more likely to get a real answer out of his mother.

"Oh," Tokio said, smiling, "Nothing darling, just work."

Saito snorted into his dinner, giving his wife a bemused look. Ignoring his bewildered gaze asking her the reason why she was lying she ate her soba.

* * *

"Kachiro-san," Tokio greeted, a smile blossoming on her face. "Welcome, Cousin, I wasn't expecting you."

"Kuni-san came as well," Kachiro said, stepping aside and letting her enter before him. "Is Goro-san home?"

"No, he's at work."

"Well, I suppose we better talk to you first, you're more sensible then him I've heard."

She smiled, "He can be very…intimidating on first acquaintance, Cousin, you've only met him once right?"

"At your wedding. Hideo-san speaks…well of him."

"Some reason I doubt that's what Hideo-san said," Kachiro gave her a disapproving look at her bluntness, but said nothing as he and Kuni sat.

"Are Tsutomu-kun and Tsuyoshi-kun here?" Kuni asked, looking around the house.

"They're in the back; they are with Ryoko-san."

"I see," Kuni looked nervous.

"Is it true that Goro-san got drunk and tore up this room," Kachiro asked after an awkward moment's silence.

She flushed, wondering if Hideo or Morinosuke had told them. She glanced at her hands, aware of Kachiro's demanding scrutiny and Kuni's suddenly worried eyes. She had to admit that Kachiro and Kuni, of all her relatives, reminded her of her father Kojuro and her mother Katsuko the most. Kachiro and Kojuro both shared a strong protective attitude towards family and a lack of humor. Kuni was as submissive, quiet, and motherly as Katsuko had been.

She pursed her lips, meeting Kachiro's eyes head on. Her father had always disapproved of her frankness or as he had called it 'inappropriately outspoken attitude' so it was no surprise to her that Kachiro disliked it. Saito had always said he enjoyed her candid air because he was bored of the delicate woman he'd been surrounded by since childhood. She loved her husband more, she mused, for his understanding attitude towards her individuality. Most men wouldn't have been so tolerate.

"Kachiro-san, I do believe it is none of your business. If my husband wishes to elaborate on that episode when he gets home he can, I will not discuss it with you. Please tell me this isn't your reason for coming over today?"

Kachiro looked as annoyed as she'd suspected he'd get, Kuni for her part looked more nervous.

"Tokio-san, I was only asking a simple question, no need to get defensive," she turned her gaze back to him with anger, but held her tongue in check. "That was part of the reason we came here, yes."

She frowned, "And the other reason?"

Kachiro looked at his hands resting on his knees and she noticed then just how tense he was. He looked like he was fighting with himself over something, was that the reason he'd been so curt the whole time? Deciding to be more careful in her words and more understanding she smiled gently at her cousin. He was family and deserved more respect than she'd showed so far.

"Cousin, let's not be harsh with each other, we are all we have in this world. Come, speak freely."

Kuni seemed to relax a little at her reassurances, but Kachiro just looked away, his unease very clear. Kuni said softly, "Kachiro-san, Tokio-san is a considerate person, she will understand our concerns."

Kachiro looked at Kuni then and a small smile came to his face with no reluctance. Indeed, she thought, glancing between wife and husband they were so much like her parents. One look from Kuni and Kachiro's resolve steadied. Saito had enough strength in himself mentally to be a thousand man army and she had to admit when she felt weakest she drew strength from her husband's unfaltering attitude. She only hoped that when Saito needed strength beyond physical means she helped him out as well.

"You're going to have your third little one, yes," Kachiro asked, turning his attention back to her.

She blinked in surprise, "Yes. Who told you that?" She hadn't told everyone, only Morinosuke, Ryoko, Hiroshi, and Katamori knew outside her and Saito.

"Your brother mentioned it when he was telling me about that incident with the sake," Kachiro didn't seem to comprehend that bring up that subject was grinding to her. Telling herself not to chew Kachiro out just because he unwittingly pointed that incident out again she instead vowed revenge against Morinosuke. Who else had her stupid brother told?

"I'm only a month or so along," she admitted, smiling.

"I wish I could have children," Kuni said, looking saddened by the thought of her barrenness. For years Kachiro and Kuni had been trying for a child, but nothing had ever come of it. She'd had about three miscarriages and after the last one Kachiro had declared that they wouldn't go through it again.

"It's the baby we wanted to talk about Tokio-san," Kachiro said, his eyes reflecting his obvious envy. "You know how long we've tried, Cousin, but nothing…and you and Goro-san already have two sons… Can you afford another?"

She blinked, not wanting to let her mind piece together what Kachiro seem to be implying. "Of course we can, the house is a little small, but we have plans to add another room." Those plans had been shot down just the other day, but she refused to tell them that.

"What about your House Master work? If the place is under construction, surely you can't keep a pupil here during that time? And what about the cost? Can you really afford six mouths on Goro-san's meager salary and your poor pay?"

She ground her teeth together, lowering her eyes to the tatami. Kachiro had a point she loathed to agree with. As things were now even the necessaries for Tsutomu, Tsuyoshi, Nagisa, Saito, and herself was a challenge.

"We could easily afford the child," Kachiro said, getting to his conclusion. "We've a large house; we'd always planned on having more then one child. Tokio-san, our line is almost extinct and we need to adopt. We'd rather adopt from you than friends or acquaintances, at least the child would almost be ours that way."

"No."

"But―."

"I said no. We can support our family without such dramatic measures and Goro would agree wholeheartedly. I know you want your own child, but…we can't give ours to you, I'm sorry."

"Tokio-san," Kuni said suddenly, making her looked up into the elder women's dark eyes. "The question here is not about honor, or that we think you incapable of raising your children well, it's about who can better see that the baby has everything in life he needs. The answer to that is quite clear, whether you want to see it or not."

She stood, shaking her head, "No. I'm sorry."

"Please think about it," Kachiro plead, "That's all we ask. Good day, Cousin."

* * *

Saito smirked with pleasure as he crawled into the futon beside Tokio. A good bath and soba right before sleep was always a wonderful way to go. Tokio didn't turn to face him though so he slid an arm around her waist.

"You were awfully quiet during dinner," he remarked, one hand pushing the covers off her shoulder as the other started at her obi. "You know, I've had soba and a bath, but I'd really like to do something dirty before I go to sleep." Waiting as his allusion to futon time processed he played with a strand of her hair. Did he mention he was bad at wooing?

"I'm not feeling up for that right now," one hand swatted his away. He blinked in surprise, since when was she not up for futon time? Oh, right she was pregnant; he almost grimaced, remembering how every other time she was with child her interest in futon time severely dwindled.

"Fine," he said, letting go of her hair and pulling the covers back over them. "Whatever you want, Tokio," he said in a horribly unpleasant tone as he rolled onto his side and away from her.

"Stop pretending to be angry, I'm the indignant one," Tokio spat, sitting up. "You should have heard what they said! Oh, I swear I can't stand them! How can they ask that of me! How could they expect me to say, 'oh sure, it's completely alright!' As if that is the case."

He sat up, startled by her sudden anger and fierce words. "What are you talking about?"

Her miffed expression really was kind of funny. Her eyebrows pulled tight, her nose scrunched up, her lips pulled down sharply, and the wild hair all over the place didn't help.

"Kachiro-san stopped by today," she said after a moment, smoothing her ruffled robe and schooling her angry countenance. She swiftly pulled her hair into some order, pulling the frenzied stands back and tying them with a ribbon.

"And Kachiro-san said something wrong?" From what he knew of the cousins' relationship it had always been strained. Strained to the serene Takagi family meant some disagreeing words with Morinosuke being the only expectation as he threw punches at Saito all the time. Saito and the Yamaguchi household had always considered estrangement to evolve punches, broken objects, and lots of yelling because disagreements happened almost every day there. Apparently fighting happened so little in the Takagi household that it was a great entertaining drama when it did.

"He did," she sighed and her eyes and face when she turned to look at him were weary and worry ridden. He didn't say anything, waiting for her to elaborate. "I don't want to discus it. Can we just go to sleep, Hajime?"

He ran a hand over her back; it was a rare treat to have her call him by his real name and one he relished beyond her understanding. "If that's what you want," he pulled her close and settled back down, his heart rate starting to slow down in preparation for slumber. He hoped no nightmares awake him tonight, he needed sleep and he didn't want to wake Tokio up either, she clearly was in one of her rare bad mood.

* * *

Kachiro settled down on the zabuton, glancing nervously up at the fierce former Miburo. Hideo shifted beside him, reaching for his tea. Kuni smiled as Tsuyoshi and Tsutomu ran passed the room, laughing and bickering as they went outside to help Tokio with the garden.

Clearing his throat anxiously he waited until Saito met his eyes before speaking. "I hope Tokio-san mentioned what we discussed last time we were here…"

Saito gave him an impassive look, saying simply, "She didn't."

He visibly stiffened, picking up his tea and sipping to try and calm himself. He wasn't usually so nervous around people, particularly family, but Saito always made him fidgety. The man had a way of looking at people that felt like he was trespassing on their innermost secrets. Not that he'd ever done anything that Saito would arrest him for, it was more like he was examining the person's morals and he didn't like the idea of someone being able to read his beliefs so well.

He set his cup down, glancing at Hideo. His cousin smiled, his mellow tones filling the stifling room. "Ah, Fujita-san, you see the issue is quite complicated. Kuni-san and Kachiro-san are unable to bear children and wish to adopt."

"Yes," he added, a hopeful smile lightening his features as his cousin's words lifted his spirit. "And you and Tokio-san already have two healthy boys…so Kuni-san and I want to adopt your unborn child and raise him as our own."

Saito's look was unreadable, his eyebrows lowering towards his eyes as he set his tea down. "Let's get one thing straight here, Kachiro, the only way I'll ever let anyone else raise my child would be if I thought they could do a better job. So no, you can't adopt my child." He added in a warning tone when he went to protest, "And no I don't care if your house is bigger or your wallet larger. It will never happen. Please leave immediately, you've done nothing but discredited yourself to me and my wife, I won't have you in my house."

Saito stood and Kachiro and Kuni both stared after him as he left with confusion mingled disbelief. Hideo raised an eyebrow, "That went well. How about I work on changing Tokio-san's mind? From what you told me, she seemed more open to the idea. I think another day will be more plausible."

Kachiro nodded after a moment and risked speaking even though he thought his voice wouldn't work pass his befuddlement. "That sounds like a better idea."

"Right, next Thursday then."

* * *

"Hideo-san," Tokio said disdainfully.

"Tokio-san," he offered a smile, knowing it would melt the iciness she was going for. "May we take a walk together? The weather is nice, no?"

"It is pleasant," she agreed, "and I do have to get to the school. Walk me there?"

"Of course."

As they walked Hideo went on about the weather, his work, and something about Hiroshi's lady breaking things off with him. How many girls had he ended things with now? Was he ever going to settle down?

"Hideo-san," she said, knowing the school wasn't much farther, "I'm not going to change my mind about this. Goro and I are in completely union on our decision."

Hideo stopped, smiled, and continued walking. She followed more slowly behind him. "It's our child we're talking about Hideo-san; we can't just give him to them, even if they're family. I mean I just can't see Kuni-san raising my son or daughter…not that I'm saying she'd make a bad mother…I just…well…I don't trust anyone doing a better job than Goro or I."

"That's your problem, Tokio-san," he said after a moment. "This whole thing isn't about who will raise him better. It isn't about Kachiro-san's house or the materialistic things he can give the child you and Goro-san can't, a child surrounded by love won't care about those things. Either way you decide the child won't have less."

"I…"

"Goro-san's viewing this in a wrong light. He's thinking hypothetically. To him he's imagining all the immoral ways Kachiro-san and Kuni-san will raise the child. He's ignoring their proven virtues as of now in favor of some veiled evil in them, but knowing his motto and his occupancy it doesn't surprise me so much. I'm just a little surprised about you are viewing it like that as well."

"Hideo-san," she frowned, wondering if she'd really dismissed their pleas because of some invisible fear.

"I can understand desire not to miss anything in the child's life, that selfishness makes sense to me, but refusing Kachiro-san and Kuni-san because you fear their actions once the baby is handed over to them is insulting insinuation."

"I'm just afraid that they will accidentally fail parenting…"

"That's the same as saying Tsutomu turns to evil and then blaming it on you, who did everything in your power to see him to the good. Blaming a parent for the faults and actions of the child is condemnation at it's most vile. It is as horrible as condemning a person for his nationality, his skin, or his sex. Now if a parent refuses to take the responsibility of raising and nurturing their child or abuses that power that's entirely different."

"I didn't―."

"Don't say you didn't, you did, you just used pleasanter wording."

She lowered her gaze, looking mortified. Hideo said nothing to her, just smiled at a passing acquaintance and greeted one of the vendors he recognized.

"Hideo-san," she said softly, noticing the school just ahead.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for what you said and for not telling me to say yes because of our family relation, but for their virtues."

"Of course. I wouldn't tell you to let them raise your child if they were terrible people. They will understand if you decide not to you know."

She nodded her head, she knew that they would be disappointed, but they would gather their courage and approach someone else. Goro wouldn't let her change her mind.

* * *

Tokio sighed, gazing into amber eyes. A wail filled the room, sizing her heart with the loud cry. She gently stroked his head, one arm propping his head. Glancing into their brother's face, Tsuyoshi looked awed as Tsutomu appeared bored.

"He's so awesome," Tsuyoshi said, grabbing his hand and squeezing.

He started crying harder and she swatted her older son's hand away. "Don't hurt him."

"You got scolded," Tsutomu laughed.

Tsuyoshi gave him an annoyed glare, "Okasan loves me more."

"No, she doesn't."

"Does too!"

"I think your okasan loves the baby more right now than you two squabbling brats."

"Otosan…"

"Want me to indulge your hurt feelings, humph, I don't think so."

"In…huh?"

"Indulge. It means to satisfy one's needs or feelings …" Seeing his son's blank face he sighed, "what I meant was that I…oh…never mind it, Yoshi-chan, just watch your brother."

"Snake head's weird," Tsutomu concluded, nodding his head at a confused Tsuyoshi.

"That explains it," Tsuyoshi said, smiling and taking the baby's foot in one hand. "So small."

"Um," Saito acceded, lounging with his back against the wall and a cigarette in his mouth.

"Cute!"

"Weird," Tsutomu claimed as he got to his feet, "And way boring. Come on, Yoshi-chan, let's go play!"

"Um…okay," he followed after his brother out of the room.

"Please tell me this is the last one. I can't live with another," he grumbled, watching Tokio smile and coo to the newborn.

"Isn't he just adorable?"

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"You always say that after we have another baby, I just tune you out. I'm mildly surprised you haven't called him ugly yet."

"Well, he does look like a shriveled raisin," he said, rolling his eyes, "but he has your eyes so he's forgiven."

"He does not!"

"I think he does."

"You're deluded!"

"And you're delusional."

"He's adorable, so what if his hands are wrinkled, he's too cute to blame."

"Humph."

"Hajime, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

He smirked, "What?"

"I've been talking to Kachiro-san and Kuni-san for a while now," she paused, setting the baby in the basket next to the futon. She pulled the covers over him securely as Saito's face hardened. "I know you're not going to be happy about what I'm going to say, but―."

"I'm going to be far from happy," he spat out as she continued undauntedly.

"But Kachiro-san and Kuni-san are good people, great people, some of the best I know."

"I don't care."

"They can provide him with a stable home, a loving place where―."

"I'm not going along with this!"

"Where he gets all the attention we can't give to three boys."

"No!"

"Shut up and let me talk without interruption!" Her cheeks burned red as her hair fell in a curtain around her face.

"I think you've stated your case quite well," he stood, "I'm going to Hiroaki's."

"What?"

"I said I'm spending the night at Hiroaki's until you change your mind. I'm not giving Tatsuo to them."

"You gave him a name?"

He grunted, "I wanted to name him after Takahito-san and Katana-san. Tatsuo Hikaru Fujita."

"Oh," she watched as he left, wondering how the situation could be rectified when they both disagreed so strongly.


	55. Chapter 55: Tokyo, 1886, Part 2

Saito frowned, rolling onto his left side on the uncomfortable futon. He ran a hand over his brow, the sweat beating a slick trail down his nose and temple. He flipped onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. Why was Hiroaki's house so damn stifling? He pulled at his borrowed nemaki, sitting up to loosen the obi and let cool air brush his hot body. He sighed, wondering how Tokio and the children were doing in dealing with the heat wave that had descended on Tokyo. He stood, deciding sleep was being damn inclusive and grabbing his cigarette things went outside. There was only a small breeze, making it just a notch nicer out in the night.

He lit a cigarette, glancing down the street. Most houses were dark, their lights extinguished hours ago. A few lanterns burned bright holes in the blue sky as they passed, groups of revelers mostly, their drunken laugher and stumbling the chief noise in the darkness. He watched a lantern a few streets down, clearly undecided on which direction to go, swinging back and forth by a vague apparition. The dark shadow of a person hesitated a moment longer before heading down an alley, the small globe of light trailing after. He frowned, taking a drag, remembering when people were too scared to even exit their houses for a moment in Kyoto. Most of the time the Ishin Shishi hadn't bothered with lanterns, it gave them away too easily. He remembered plenty of times when they'd chanced upon a patriot as he crossed an empty market area or cut through a side street, only noticing him because of the lantern.

"Hajime-chan," Hiroaki's voice broke his musings and the gloom as a startled cat ran out from behind one house to another. He still couldn't looked Hiroaki in the face, the large bruise was gone, had been for months now, but every time he looked at his brother he felt a constant reminder of the punch he'd thrown, of his anger let loose.

"Hiroaki-san," he said stiffly, feeling those same awkward emotions he kept getting when around his brother. Hiroaki hadn't openly changed his attitude, he was still friendly and teasing, a good older brother, but there was a lingering of disgust, of distrust in his eyes every time he turned his head and met those eyes. In Hiroaki's eyes he was condemned and he couldn't stand it.

"You should go apologize to Tokio-san," his brother said simply, not looking at him either. He wondered if their relationship had ever been so strained, sure the hatamoto incident had separated them for years, but during their absence both had healed and had met on equal ground when they'd been reunited. Now things had fallen apart again and both were unsure of how to proceed, expect perhaps through distance and that wasn't favorable right now.

Both were equally too busy remembering old incidents of Yusuke's anger taken out on them, beatings and curses heaped on unwitting children. Yusuke may have been a good samurai, a good man even, but he'd been unrestrainedly strict, beating them to near an inch of their lives' for only small infringements such as having a lady friend or getting drunk. He still recalled a moment when he'd feared his father's anger would be the death of him, when he'd lain bleeding before his father as his mother and siblings watched. He rationalized later that he'd probably deserved that one for the hatamoto killing, but the others never made sense.

He knew he processed the same strictness as Yusuke towards his children, recognized in him the same coldness his father had always showed him, and he accepted it even. He'd never cross the line of hurting his children as badly as Yusuke, a small slap here or there to keep them in line, but never would he abuse them. He loved them too much and he'd never hurt Tokio.

His anger was the one thing from Yusuke he couldn't live with. It always got the best of him, just as Yusuke's had always gotten the better of him. A small part of him feared what he'd do if his anger ever got directed towards his sons or Tokio again. So he stopped drinking, no more sake would ever pass his lips while he lived. He'd promised and he intended to keep it.

"She's the one who needs to apologize, Hiroaki-san, she's the one actually taking this adoption idea seriously."

"If it was me asking for the child, would you?"

He blinked, surprise flashing in his eyes. "Why are you asking such a question? We both already know you failed with Yukiko-san."

Usually Hiroaki would have teased him back, but his eyes were grave and his face utterly devoid of mirth. "Yukiko-san is a good young woman now, Hajime-chan, and she's going to have a bright future. Answer my question honestly."

He glanced out at the street. Hiroaki was a good man, he'd never done anything even remotely immoral, and he'd raised Yukiko to be an excellent person as well. There was no evidence he could come up with that he should say no. "I probably would give him to you if you were in such need, but grudgingly. It's our son, Hiroaki; I can't give him to virtual strangers. That's what they are to me."

"Get to know them better then, just don't shoot them down before you hear them out. If I didn't have Yukiko I'd probably be in their position."

"Humph," he watched Hiroaki turn from him, listening as he paused at the shoji.

"Hajime, don't forget giving him to people who will love him isn't going to make him evil. And you can still see him….as for…well…the…I'm not angry."

"I know," but the disappointment in his eyes was there.

"Right," Hiroaki's presence gone he sat down and finished his cigarette.

* * *

Tokio glanced at Nagisa, watching the girl happily reading a letter from Taro. Despite her many warnings against being involved with him she still persisted, saying she wouldn't run away with him but that she loved him and couldn't quit him either.

She turned her attention back to the baby. Tatsuo stared up at her with the same wide eyed innocence his brothers' had displayed at that age, his little mouth shaped in a circle, one hand clutching the blankets. She had never suspected she'd have another child after Tsuyoshi, but Tatsuo was a wonderful surprise. She picked him up and cradled him, thinking of all her children he resembled her the most. Tsutomu had her eyes but Saito's features and tall build. Tsuyoshi on the other hand was almost his father personified in appearance. Tatsuo's brown eyes, dark hair, straight nose, and flat ears were defiantly hers. In fact poor Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi had their father's ears.

He could almost pass off as Kachiro and Kuni's child. She sighed, wondering if Saito would ever change his mind. Or at least come home. Three days he'd spent at Hiroaki's and she was more then willing to admit she missed his presence in the house.

Tsutomu ran into his room with Tsuyoshi following right behind. Hachiko lifted his head a second after they'd gone though, seeming to wait for them to come back out. When it appeared no one was coming to bother with him he settled back down on his paws. Tsutomu's fascination with the Akita had vanished a long time ago, particularly because Hachiko wasn't as playful as he'd been years ago. Tsuyoshi still showed some interest, rubbing Hachiko's belly when he had to sit anywhere in the house. Saito mostly ignored the animal so she was left with the more unpleasant task of making sure Hachiko got outside enough.

She left Tatsuo in the basket and opened the back yard shoji; Hachiko noticed this immediately and went running outside. She watched him a moment before resuming her seat next to Tatsuo.

She noticed Nagisa's soft giggling had abruptly stopped. Glancing at the brown haired petite girl she found her staring at someone. Turning she found Saito standing by the getabako, his sandals in his hands as he put them away.

"Goro," she said as he came shuffling forward. He looked annoyed, his face pinched with irritation. He sat down next to Tatsuo's basket, glancing at the baby as he got into sieza across from her.

"Tokio," he mumbled in a low tone, glancing down at Tatsuo. The burning fire in his eyes blazed with contemplation as his face remained impassive. "He looks like you."

"Yes."

"It is alright if I come home?"

"Why are you even asking? I'd deny you nothing," she smiled sweetly, reaching over and taking his hand. Nagisa gave a laugh, looking affectionately between her teacher and her stern husband. There was something almost endearing about the two.

"Good because I'm not about to beg," he spat out with derision. There he went and ruined the moment of bliss Nagisa's romantic side whined.

Tokio didn't seem to mind though as she smiled and picked Tatsuo up. "I wasn't about to ask you to beg, though admittedly the idea is somewhat pleasant…"

"Humph."

Tokio wrinkled her nose, saying, "Tatsuo's had a little accident."

"Fix it then."

"Stop grumbling. Why are you in such a bad mood today, koishii?"

"Hiroaki kicked me out," he answered as Tokio started to undress the baby and clean him up.

"I figured that. Was it a fight again? Did you punch him?" Her tone loss it's sweetness, making Nagisa think of the scolding she was use to getting from her mother.

"I didn't hit him. He just demanded that I leave, bastard. I think it was that wife of his; she doesn't seem to like me. Don't see what I ever did to that—."

"Watch your language, Nagisa-san is in the room."

"Oh, Fujita-san I'm not a child. I've heard worse from my own father. He knows some pretty good ones, learned them from some Shinsengumi members actually."

Saito scowled, "Your father knew some Shinsengumi?"

"Oh, yes, he said he was acquainted with a Hiesuke Todo and Sanosuke Harada. Apparently they had some awful mouths on them."

Saito snored, awful was putting it lightly. He'd never heard more colorful words from anyone in his lifetime than from those two idiots.

* * *

"Hajime?" Tokio said as she pulled pins out of her hair. He was smoking, sitting in his fundoshi on the futon. He gave a 'humph' in response, showing he was listening even though he was looking elsewhere. "I want to talk about Tatsuo."

"What about him?" There was a hint of warning in his tone; clearly he didn't want to talk about it.

"We both need to agree on what we are going to do. I want to give him to Kachiro and Kuni. Your stubborn ass on the other hand won't even think about it."

"I'm stubborn? Pfff," he said, taking a long drag.

"Why can't you see reason?" She asked, getting irritated. Usually her husband agreed with her on most things or convincing him was easy, but this was proving to be extremely difficult. "He'd have a good home with them. They'd treat him so well."

"They'd spoil him."

"No, they wouldn't."

"He'd be there only child, they'd indulge him too much and he'd turn to thinking he could always get his way. He'd turn out to be a brat we'd scoff at on the street. Don't deny it."

"They'd provided him with every material thing he could ever need."

"He'll turn out materialistic. Good job there."

"He'd be loved."

"Kachiro-san knows what love is? Kuni shows it, but him? Tatsuo could end up not even feeling loved; I've seen it happen often. A kid goes ballistic and kills his parents out of neglect. Just the other day a sister killed her brother because she felt he got more love than her."

"Stop saying that. You know that won't happen."

"Maybe there is a slim chance, but it's still possible. As long as it's possible my son isn't leaving this house, got it?"

She tied her obi closed and approached the futon. Sitting down next to him she glared. "You know Tsutomu might turn out spoilt or materialistic or Tsuyoshi might someday kill him out of resentment. It is as likely to happen to one of them after being raised by us as it is likely being raised by Kachiro and Kuni. Don't tell me that isn't so, you know they could or might yet turn out bad despite our parenting. If everyone was as bothered like you are that these nearly impossible events might occur no one would have children and the whole human race would be extinct by now."

"That was overly dramatic," he took a drag on his cigarette. "I'm not concerned about the child being inherently evil; I don't believe in that rubbish, I'm more realistic. I don't believe anyone is born to be either good or bad. It just happens by circumstances and the person's choices." He gave her a stern look, "you don't believe that a person is born like that, do you?"

"You know I don't."

"Right. So if Tatsuo isn't born evil why would he turn to evil unless he was directed by bad parenting?"

"There is so much more to life then that, koishii. If I had bad parenting do you really think I'd be evil right now?"

"No," he admitted, turning his gaze away from her face. He pushed his cigarette forcefully into the ashtray, "But that doesn't mean having bad parenting helps the child's moral ideology any. It messes them up."

"All you can hope for when raising a child is that things turn out for the best."

"You're too damn optimistic, Tokio," he said simply. "I don't believe Kachiro and Kuni will make Tatsuo into a respectable young man. I don't think love is the only deciding factor in picking them like you do or putting faith in them. I can't live without absolutes. And I can't give up Tatsuo without knowing in absolute terms that they will raise him to be good. I can't chance it, I just can't."

Tokio nearly sighed, but his next words, more grudgingly said surprised her. "However I will consider the….idea…after I do a few checks. I want to do a complete sweep of their neighborhood, make sure there aren't any criminals nearby."

A thought came to mind after hearing his words, "Did you do that when we moved in?"

"Of course. You really think I picked out this house without looking into things?"

"I…well…was that fine with Uramura-san?"

"He doesn't actually know about it. A few officers helped who know how to keep quiet," he shrugged.

"I see."

"I'm also going to check the schools they'll send him too and the kenjutsu instructor if they do that. Also I plan on keeping a keen eye on any friends he might make, just to be safe, some people are rotten even at young ages."

"But you'll do it?"

"I didn't say that. I said I'd consider it, keep that in mind. I might refuse it after my findings. I also expect to spent hours getting to know Kachiro and Kuni. They will be the most influential on his growth so I want to make sure we're really putting him into capable hands."

"But you're saying yes?"

"I didn't say that. Maybe, I haven't decided. You know I hate this, I hate this whole damn situation, and I really really hate Kachiro for making this happen."

"Hajime, I believe your hatred of things has reached a new level. My poor cousin to be on the receiving end, I can't imagine it would be enjoyable."

"You talk too much."

"You're the one who talks too much."

"You're mistaken."

She gave him a shove, but he looked unfazed. Grabbing his shoulders she saddled him. "I win," the words just barely left her mouth before she was maneuvered into the exact opposite position.

Flashing a gloating grin for the first time since he'd returned this evening, he said victoriously, "I win."

"You win on one condition."

"Oh? I don't believe you should be bargaining, my little captive."

"So long as you promise me you win forever," she kissed him, laughing as his bewildered expression transformed into a smirk.

* * *

"Yasuyo-san," he greeted as Chou and Yasuyo came up to him. "Well?"

"Good," Chou crossed his arms.

"I wasn't asking you."

"What Chou said. There are no suspected or convicted criminals within a mile radius of the residence you wanted us to investigate."

"I'm more curious about why we are watching a family neighborhood of wealthy Japanese? I don't get it, we'd do better to check the slums," Yasuyo nodded in agreement to Chou's words. It didn't make sense to watch the place. No murders had happened in the residence from what he and Chou had gathered and no other crimes either. So why?

"Good. That's what I was hoping you two would report. What about the school a few blocks away?"

"Solid building," Chou looked bored, realizing Saito wasn't going to cough up the real reason behind this little outing.

"What Chou means," Yasuyo intervened, seeing the annoyed gleam in Saito's eyes. "Is that there haven't been any crimes in the school for years. The last crime was a raping of a young female student, several years ago by a Takahiro Ito-san. He was arrested and sentenced at his trial to two years. He apparently moved away, either to Osaka or Kyoto, after serving his time, my sources weren't certain. Are we after Takahiro-san? Is that what this is about?"

He looked thoughtful, but shook his head, "We're not after Takahiro-san. Chou?"

"Hm?"

"Make yourself useful and tell me about the school you looked at?"

"Fine. Only crimes are some bullying, you know fist fights, whatnot, but no one ever reports those."

"Good."

"What's this for?" Yasuyo asked, looking perplexed.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Yasuyo-san, if you wouldn't mind double checking the school I had Chou look into, I trust his information about as much as I trust Bakumatsu Battousai not to kill me."

Chou and Yasuyo exchanged glances as Saito walked off, wondering what was wrong with their superior this time.


	56. Chapter 56: Tokyo, 1886, Part 3

"Yasuyo Matsushita, how's it feel to know you're soon to be a married man?" Morinosuke asked, laughing as he slapped the man on the back. Yasuyo blushed, looking nervous.

"Good…hm…is Fujita-sama with you?"

"Sure, Tokio-chan's somewhere."

"I meant Goro-sama."

"Eh? Never heard anyone call that prick -sama before, you do that often?"

"He's my superior so I feel obliged to be respectful, but he came right?" Yasuyo glanced over his shoulder. "I want him to meet my wife."

"Right. Haven't they met?"

"Only once and Goro-sama probably doesn't remember her… Did you happen to see Chou-san?"

"No. You invited him?"

"I felt obliged."

"Let me tell you something, Yasuyo-san, next time you feel obliged to do something do the opposite. Inviting that nutcase is bringing bad—."

"Hey, Yasuyo," Chou greeted, "How's it going? Sorry I'm late, had a bit of business, ya know?"

"Not a problem."

"That the misses, hm? So short," Chou leaned back as he stared at Yasuyo's bride. "What's 'er name?"

"Teruko Kamoika-san."

"I'm Chou," he smiled.

"We just call him Broomhead," Saito said, appearing behind Chou with Tokio and company.

"Stop calling me that! You're almost as bad as that Roosterhead, ya know that, jeez, a guy can't get a break even for five minutes from you, can he?"

"I am known to be relentless," Saito said unflinchingly. "I hope, Yasuyo-san, that you have a prosperous future in your marriage life."

"Thank you, Fujita-sama," Yasuyo smiled. "I'm really glad you could make it. Will Eiji-san be joining us?"

"Let's hope not."

"He's joking. Eiji had to work, but he said he'd try to get off. We'll just have to be hopeful." She gave her husband a glare and then smiled at Yasuyo. "I really wish you a better marriage than mine."

"That won't be hard," Morinosuke mumbled, glaring at Saito. Ever since the room destruction incident Morinosuke had refused to be cordial with Saito, in fact he was probably worse than ever.

Saito just ignored them and quickly ushered the two boys to their seats as they were getting fidgety. After listening to Hiroaki's complains about not getting to see the children now that they were older he'd taken Tatsuo for the night.

The wedding ceremony was more ostentatious than the one he and Tokio had. Yasuyo seemed a little embarrassed whenever Chou mentioned how 'sweet' his lady was or pointed out how high class everything was. He had a feeling Yasuyo had done little in preparation for the evening, guessing it was his happily jumping around wife. One minute she was talking to Chou, the next she was half way across the room speaking to her father and then she'd be at the refreshment table chatting up her cousin. He mostly gave up watching her after a few seconds, Yasuyo had gone off to talk to the guests and Tokio was trying to calm Tsutomu down.

It wasn't hard then to spot Eiji standing sheepishly to the side, dressed in what looked to be a borrowed kimono. He fidgeted, his brown gaze searching for them obviously. He stood and waved. Eiji saw the movement, recognized him, smiled, and came speedily over.

"Goro," Eiji said, smiling. His brown hair was neatly combed and pushed out of his eyes. His hair had grown pass his ears since he'd moved out. Without Tokio's regular hair cuts he apparently forgot about it.

"Humph," he sat back down, crossing his arms. Eiji smiled at Tokio, Tsutomu, and Tsuyoshi as he took a seat next to his middle child.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Eiji," Tokio said.

"I've been really busy with work," he admitted, shrugging. "I just got a promotion and things are going really good."

"I'm glad to hear that," she grinned back.

He kept his eyes focused on the party as his sons regaled Eiji with questions about his independent life. He stood after about fifteen minutes, saying curtly to Tokio's questioning look that he needed a smoke.

Walking the length of the restaurant and out the doors he relaxed when the cool air hit his face. Carefully liberating a cigarette and igniting the stick he took a drag, letting the calm quiet night soothe him. Darkness had a kind of calming affect on him, probably from his years of countless night patrols and duels in the dark with hitokiri. Darkness hid things from sight certainly, but it often freed his mind of the thoughts of day light.

He walked out further away from the restaurant and the light until his feet gently brushed over damp grass and soft earth. He paused once he was out of the reach of the lanterns dotting the parameter of the building, taking several drags from his cigarette as he merely stood unmoving. Crickets or cicadas calls were coming from somewhere nearby. He could never tell them apart, though Tokio often said they sounded completely different. He wondered on it, he had good ears for everything but that, how could Tokio tell them apart?

"Goro?" A sheepish voice asked from behind him. He didn't bother turning as Eiji came slowly outside. Party noise flooded from the opened shoji for only a brief moment before it was cut off.

Eiji's soft tabi padded feet glided across the porch, down the steps, and over the small stretch of grass where he stood. He heard Eiji shifting his feet vainly to avoid getting them wetter then they already were. He snorted at the stupidity of it, catching Eiji's attention before the boy sighed and slipped his socks off. Holding them in one hand Eiji took a step forward so that he was ahead of him and to the right.

"Goro?"

"I heard you fine the first time, Mishima-san."

"Oh," he looked nervous, eyes staring listlessly at the grass.

"What do you want? Clearly you came out here with reason and being perspective I can tell it has something to do with me so spill."

Eiji met his eyes with those big brown ones of his before becoming sheepish again and glancing back at the restaurant.

"I…um."

"You what, Mishima-san?"

A flicker of hurt darted into his face and clouded his eyes as they locked gazes. "Why?"

"Why what?" He flicked his cigarette to the ground, irritation stuttered in his eyes before blinking out like the tip of his cigarette as his eyes met Eiji's young pained orbs.

"Why do you keep calling me Mishima-san?"

"I'm being respectful," he said simply, waving off the notion of something else with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

"My ass you are," Eiji declared as his cheeks enflamed a startling shade of red with anger. "You're respectful to no one, damn it. You're just using it to piss me off."

"No, I'm not."

"Sure," Eiji looked flustered, his eyes raging with indignation. "Be honest, Goro, it's not like you to tell lies."

"I'm not lying and since when did you decide to call me merely by name?"

Eiji winced before pursing his lips, "I figured since you're insisting on using Mishima I'd use it…I know only Tokio-dono is allowed that so I figured it would annoy you to hear someone else use it…"

"Hearing that hideous title after Tokio's name is more slighting to me than my name, idiot."

He looked down, a troubled look marring his features. His shabby hair fell into his face. "You need a hair cut," he said in the ever growing silence. "And you should sow your tabi, you've got holes."

"I know," he mumbled, glancing at the socks clutched in his right hand. "I don't know how to sow."

"Have Tokio do it."

"No."

"Stop being so stubborn, she wouldn't mind, besides it would give her some time to bother you. What's one day at our place going to do to you, not kill you I promise."

"No."

"At least come over for a hair cut. Tokio says your place is too cramped to be comfortable for more than one."

"Stop it," Eiji spat, lifting his face defiantly to glare at him.

"What are you yelling about?"

"Stop trying to get me to come back, I won't."

"That wasn't my intention."

"Pffh," he shook his head. "I'm not a child that needs a caregiver anymore, Goro. I'm an adult, I make a good deal of money, and I can feed myself and cloth myself just fine."

"Doesn't look that way."

"So what if my hair is a little long!" Eiji looked annoyed, "Just let me be an adult. I need to be one."

"I'm only concerned for your well being. What happens if you lose that precious job of yours, hm?"

"I get another one."

"You might not get one right away, you'll lose your home and then what? You'll come crawling back."

"No."

"You will. I'm surprised you can even afford food and clothing right now, but I suppose those little bento's Tokio brings to your place all the time are probably your main meal, hm?"

Eiji bite his lip, looking on the verge of falling onto the grass at his feet or rallying against the sky with arms raised. He sighed, a sound that reminded him not of a child but a mature man. "I'm just trying, Goro, isn't that what everyone does at this age? I'll fumble, I'll fall, I'll barely make it by, but I'm making it and that is what matters. If I go back to living with you and Tokio-dono I…I feel like everything I've done so far will be for not. I won't have accomplished anything these months on my own and…and I'll be at the beginning. I've learned so much, I've grown so much…How can I possibly go back to being little Eiji Mishima, adopted by Tokio-dono and Goro? I just want to be Eiji Mishima. I'm a man, not a child."

"Eiji…" He closed his eyes, hearing the softened sound of the crickets. Had their call changed in the span of time he and Eiji had been out here? It sounded less harsh, quieter and reserved. As if it truly knew itself and did not need to put up any masks to hide behind. "Eiji, if that is the reason you left…I'm sorry I tried to stop you."

Eiji's startled look went unnoticed by him as his eyes remained closed, but he heard the soft sound of surprise from the man. "Goro…Tokio-dono said…she said she thought I blamed you…that I left because of you…but it had nothing to do with you. I did it for me, I had to, I couldn't have faced myself if I had done nothing."

"It's alright, Eiji, I understand. Let's go back inside."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Oops," he opened his eyes to see Eiji hurriedly picking up his dropped socks. He rolled his eyes.

"Idiot."

"You're mean."

"I can't help it. It's genetics."

"How come Hiroaki-san is so nice then?"

"He took after our mother," he grabbed Eiji's tabi from him and threw them onto the porch steps. "Let them dry while we go back inside."

Slipping out of his, Eiji asked him, "What was your father like?" He paused, the sock dangling half off his foot. He slid it off completely, thinking on a good answer as he heard the soft plop sound it made as the wet fabric hit the wooden porch. "He was…stern."

Eiji waited for more, but he just pushed off the other sock in silence. "And?"

"And what?"

"What else?"

"Nothing. He was not around much. Always at the brothels or out drinking sake in the taverns."

"I thought he was married," asked an aghast Eiji, "err…happily so anyway."

"Yusuke," saying the name aloud was strange. It had been so long since he'd heard that bastard's name spoken. Hiroaki and he had always avoided speaking it. "Yusuke would go to the brothels because they never closed and people weren't allowed to carry swords there. Safer than a tavern full of rorin."

"I suppose."

"Come on, if we don't get inside Tokio will send the idiots out looking for us."

"You mean your kids?"

"Yes, the idiotic brats."

* * *

"Goro?" Tokio said as she snuggled against him in the rickshaw.

"Hm?" He asked, leaning against the back board and feeling every little bump in the road as the rickshaw sped over the land. He hated rickshaw rides, but the children had insisted and Tokio had said it would be a good ride home. Tsuyoshi and Tsutomu were happily shoving and jostling around in the rickshaw just ahead of them, clearly irritating their driver.

"How come you called Eiji by his name all evening?"

"Humph."

"A real answer would be nice," he saw more than irritation in her eyes when he looked down into them. They were filled with anger and deep frustration.

"What?"

"You know what you did."

"What did I do?" He asked as she turned her head away.

"Figure it out, you're intelligent."

He frowned, what was bothering Tokio? What had he done? He spent the entire ride trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but nothing seem to fit right.

Was she angry that he'd not been happy about Eiji's moving? Surely not, she'd made several comments about his refusal to go to Eiji's place, but she hadn't seemed overly concerned, figuring he'd move on eventually. If it wasn't that then what? Things were at least semi-decent with Eiji after their talk, had she not noticed the return to using his name? Did it even have anything to do with Eiji?

Had something happened at the party to bug her? There had been only one mention of Teruhime, an incident involving her and her scathing tongue, but it had been on happy terms and Tokio hadn't seemed bothered. Perhaps she was upset at the lack of remembrance of Teru? No, he doubted that. Tokio would be fine with that sort of thing; she'd understand that mentioning someone all the time wasn't necessary so long as they were remembered in their loved one's minds.

So what was he missing? She'd said it was something he'd done, excluding everything he hadn't done that evening that might bother her, there were still numerous reasons. Was it because he'd been a little disrespectful to the bride? He'd only made one comment about her all evening and it hadn't been particularly hurtful, right? How bad was saying she could lose a few pounds? Yasuyo, wife, and everyone had laughed it off, thinking he was teasing. Tokio hadn't looked happy at his words, but she hadn't chewed him out for it. Was that the problem or was it something more important?

Following the sheepherder that was Tokio and their flock of unruly children he watched anxiously as she shooed them to their room and went inside with them. Nagisa asked softly from behind him, "Should I make some tea, Goro-san?"

"No. Go get some sleep, Nagisa-san, you've had a long night and a busy tomorrow waits."

"Thank you, Goro-san," smiling Nagisa went into her room. He sighed, going to the kitchen. Putting the kettle on and watching the water he wondered what kind of treatment Tokio was going to put him through once she was done with the brats. Hopefully she'd be lenient. He'd had a long day at work with Chou's attitude and then wedding parties weren't his thing. Having to haul a drink Chou away from the restaurant after he almost got into a brawl with another guest was not his ideal downtime. And Eiji and their conversation didn't improve his black mood. Oh and Morinosuke's constant glares and belittling was irritating. As bad as things had been between them in the beginning it didn't even compare to the reality of their relationship now. Things had actually been going well between the brother-in-law and himself for years. Damn sake and his anger.

"Goro," Tokio's voice said from his left. She reached over and took the kettle off, giving him a sour look, "You're turning all the water to steam. What are you doing?"

"Trying to make tea."

"For what?"

"I figured if I have to endure you're scolding I could at least enjoy a cup of tea while it's happening."

Clearly aggravated further than she'd been before she finishing up the tea as he went into the living room. He sat, folding his hands in his lap and staring at the tatami. The mat right in front of him had a scoff mark from Tsutomu and down three and to the left was the mat Hachiko had peed on yesterday. He frowned as the abovementioned animal came over and sat down next to him, rolling onto his back and waggling his tail. Saito gave the mutt a dirty look and nearly sighed in agitation when the dog just stared pleadingly back. He rolled his eyes, but reluctantly rubbed his belly. Hachiko wiggled his body underneath his ministrations, most obliviously the happiest thing in this house right now. He'd never cared much for the dog, but he found at least Hachiko didn't hate him right now.

Tokio set the pot and cups down with a clamor, startled Hachiko who looked at her as if to say, "What's got into her?" In the next instant he calmly turned his belly further to the left for a good petting there. At least the dog understood him. Then again wolf and dog were somewhat related.

"What did I do?"

"Eiji told me something very interesting about your conversation," Tokio said as she sat, her eyes dark in the dim light. "Yusuke Yamaguchi ring a bell?"

"Hm," what had that little bastard Eiji said? Shit.

"Care to explain why you told me all these years that Yusuke had died when you were young? But suddenly you talk to Eiji and oops Yusuke never died?"

"Technically he is dead."

"Goro," her warning tone was there. Shit.

"He didn't physically die when I was young alright," he acceded. "But in reality to me, Hiroaki, and Katsu he was dead. Probably even to himself. He was never the same after our mother passed away."

"So you didn't lie about your mother passing away?"

"No, Masu died when I was young. She was always there for us, I remember, she'd always make sure Katsu and I didn't kill each other. She and Hiroaki were very close I recall. He probably remembers her better then I do. As for Yusuke," he visibly tensed, "He was…a strict person."

"Eiji said that."

"Hm."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth, koishii, you know how much I hate it when you keep things from me."

"I," he hesitated, something he was unaccustomed to doing. How could he tell her the truth about this? Could he say his greatest fear aloud? Fear, that thing which he said he never felt, was gripping him in it's lethal vice. He'd rather face twenty Battousai's than this mental battle. No. No, he couldn't. He took her hand, meeting her softened eyes. "Tokio, Yusuke was not a good father. When I say he was strict…I mean he…he'd beat Hiroaki and I."

Confusion reflected in her gentle gaze, summoning his buried courage he said with more force. "He'd beat us senseless for no other reason then that we came home a few minutes late. One time he choked Hiroaki because he failed a test. Another time he pushed Katsu down the stairs because a boy from the neighborhood had walked her home."

He couldn't look her in the eye anymore. She was silent and he didn't dare look up to see what her face would hold.

"Oh, Hajime koishii, you should have told me sooner," her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her soft head of hair pressed to his neck. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

"I don't want pity."

"I know, but still…it's so sad. I couldn't imagine what I'd have done if my father had been like that. He was a very good father, distant and not very open to listening to me because I was a woman, but he loved me."

"Yusuke loved us…I think…he just had problems."

"Um."

"You know I'd never hurt the children right?"

"I know."

"Or you?" He held her eyes, one hand gently fingering her hair. She nodded her head, "I'd never hurt you, Tokio, Sada. I'm always…afraid of being like my father…but I think I can control my anger so long as I have you and the children to keep me tame."

She smiled, her look one of complete adoration, "I know, Hajime. You think I married you without knowing that? I can't ever see you losing yourself; your beliefs wouldn't ever let you do otherwise. I am glad to hear you include me and the children though."

"Let's get some sleep; we have a long day tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

* * *

"When are they coming?"

"They should be here any minute," Tokio said, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles in her burgundy kimono. She'd brought a new kimono for today, though why she'd bothered was beyond him. Who cared what Kuni thought of her kimono? And why had she even bothered in cleaning the tatami a second time within the last week? His tabi had stuck to the still damp tatami unpleasantly all morning and Tsuyoshi had clearly collided into his brother when he almost slipped earlier. It was a hindrance more than a necessary cleaning measure.

"I'm not waiting all day," he said in the silence of the living room. Tsutomu, Tsuyoshi, and Wataru, Morinosuke's only son old enough to learn, could be heard outside practicing the kata he'd assigned them this week. "I should be training the brats."

"Five minutes away from that isn't going to hurt anything. You know we should just enroll Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi in a dojo, it would be easier then trying to jugging their training around your schedule."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not interested in seeing them trained by some half competent swordsman?"

"I thought half competent swordsmen were sufficient for the peaceful Meiji era?"

"Not for my sons."

"Uh-huh."

"Sorry we're late," apologized Kachiro when Tokio answered the door, "The ride was longer than we thought so we had left later then we should have."

"It really isn't a big deal. Come see Tatsuo," he watched silently as Tokio leaned over and picked Tatsuo up from his basket. Kuni's small round face warmed with delight as she beheld the baby and Kachiro's lined features softened as he smiled. He touched the boy's head, praising the healthy glow in Tatsuo's cheeks as Kuni cooed in a quiet soothing tone. Tokio carefully placed the baby into Kuni's arms, telling her to watch the head. Kuni's eyes sparkled as she held the boy, cradling him close.

Watching them with his son it was clear they cared about the baby. How could he deny them the joy of holding such innocence in their arms and watching that sweet bundle grow into a vigorous carefree youth and then to a mature man? He'd enjoyed hearing Tsutomu's first word or Tsuyoshi's first cry of breath as he came into the world, he'd delighted as much as the children when he'd bounced them on his knee, he'd watched with pride their first steps and sprints, and he'd felt their frustration at their failures and had trumpeted with them when they set them straight. His blossom grew heavy with feeling…How could he say no to their desires when he so cherished his own moments with his sons?

It was easy to say no when he merely saw the concept, but being face to face with their happiness and knowing one word from him could tear it all away...it was a painful decision he and Tokio would be making, not only for themselves for giving their son to relatives, but for Kachiro and Kuni. It would be the final acceptance that a child of their own would never materialize and that they would instead have to lavish their affections onto a child not their own. Looking at them now he figured it had been the last hurtle they'd had to cross before coming here this evening…and he understood overcoming similar obstacles all too well.

"Kachiro-san, Kuni-san," both turned in surprise at his sudden words. "Come here. I want to make sure some things are agreed upon before we finalize this adoption."

"Koishii, I thought this was just our third meeting," his wife's tone laced with careful caution as she asked what the three pairs of eyes wanted to know, "you've really changed your mind?"

"As rare as such an occurrence is for me," he said after a long moment, raising his eyes from his tea and glancing at Kachiro and Kuni. Tatsuo gave a soft cry from her arms, a little hand peeking above from her sleeve. "I think I'm agreeing. If you meet my conditions of course. First off his name will remain Tatsuo; I'm unbending on that regard. As for what school I want you to send him too, Tokyo Elementary is by far the most promising, believe me I was very detailed about that. After Elementary Tokyo Higher School is good and then to whichever school you prefer for more education at the time. As for neighbor friends, the Mashi residence next door has two sons about Tatsuo's age, they could make good playmates."

"You really surprised me, Fujita-san, I wasn't aware you were going to be so…well…studious about the matter."

"I never do anything without making sure I know everything, Kachiro-san, and I will be checking up on Tatsuo, don't mistake me, I maybe letting you raise him but he will not raised to be an idiot like Morinosuke-san."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Kachiro said, laughing, "My father and forefathers were Aizu clan elders before the clan's were abolished, we're not stupid people usually, Morinosuke-san was a rare exception."

"I suppose I should just be grateful you two agree on something," she said as the two began a long conversation about her brother's stupidity.

* * *

Ryoko mending a pair of hakama looked up from her work as Morinosuke sneezed three times repeatedly. "Oh, I think you're getting a cold, Morine-san."

"Probably just Goro talking bad about me again, I really hate that guy."

* * *

Historical note: From what little information is provided on the internet of Yusuke Yamaguchi there is no evidence to suggest he was abusive of his children. This is purely fictional material used to progress the story, it may or may not have happened. I happen to think the historical Yusuke was a good man, but for the purpose of the story he is portrayed in a more unflattering light.

I am not condoning child abuse nor is this meant to be a campaign against it. The reason for the mentioning of abuse at all is to provide a window into Saito's character, it is merely one reason he is the person he is in the story and I had no other reason for including it. Killing, abuse, etc are all used as plot devices and should not be taken out of contest. This warning is being issued because I have a tendency in my stories to explore character's personal beliefs and by doing that either condoning or condemning certain actions I feel the character would. The belief of the characters does not necessarily collide with my own and no one should take what one of the characters in the story say too seriously. If you are offended with anything in the story, like vague mentions of character rape, sexual references, murder, abuse, etc you should have stopped reading long ago. This fiction is rated T, meaning under it is suitable for most teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes. Live with it or stop reading, the choice is yours.

Also about the adoption, I really didn't want to give Tatsuo up, but historical Saito and Tokio did that…so I abide by history, it's my college major after all and I can only live with a few changes to it at a time. About Tokio and Saito's stances on adoption and the historical Japan perspective on it. Adoption was a widely practiced belief of the Japanese's people actually, it was just what you did if you couldn't have kids of your own, or else you could take a mistress and have illegitimate children….but adoption was the preferred choice. Saito and at first Tokio's rejection of the idea probably doesn't have as much weight as it does today. In fact Takeda Kanryusai from the Shinsengumi was adopted in his youth, Katamori Matsudaira adopted a son, and Teru was in fact adopted as well. Common practice more or less. It was hard to write though, I felt kind of bad giving Tatsuo away, but we'll see more of him. Just because he's being raised by different people doesn't mean he is gone from the story.

That being said can anyone believe Saito is forty two years old in the story already? Man, he's getting on the old side, lol, can't wait for the gray hair to start :) Enjoy, R&R and sorry about the long author's note.


	57. Chapter 57: Tokyo, 1890, Part 1

Tsutomu glanced at Tsuyoshi, his brother was talking animatedly with a strange haired boy a few years older then him. He turned to his father who was talking to a man in front of Jutoku-ji temple. Mother had disappeared into a building a few paces away, saying something about needing more tea at home. He crinkled his brow, slowly approaching Tsuyoshi. His only brother laughed aloud, looking amused as the stranger chuckled.

"Tsu-chan," his brother greeted. He rolled his eyes, wishing that for at least once in his life his brother would stop calling him that ridiculously childish name. He could have lived with -kun for everyone called had started calling him that last year, but -chan was so annoying.

"What, Yoshi-chan," he snapped, knowing his brother disliked the term as much as he did.

"Go ask Otosan if we can go with Ken-san here, I want to see his dojo."

He shook his head, "You know he won't allow that. We have to meet Uncle, stupid, we can't."

"But he has a dojo," he protested, "with real wood floors and shinai, not those sticks Otosan makes us use for our training."

He didn't disagree with Tsuyoshi; it was humiliating to admit to other students at school that he and Tsuyoshi were trained at home. Tsuyoshi and he had both been taught since they were young about Bushido and it felt like a slight to their pride to be looked down upon because they weren't trained in a traditional kenjutsu school. Most of their friends didn't care, but that was only because none of them had training. The few boys they knew who took classes at real dojo always looked poorly at them.

He shrugged, "You've seen one dojo before you've seen them all. It's not a big deal."

"But―."

"Stop it."

"Humph," Tsuyoshi crossed his arms, looking annoyed. He ruffled his brother's hair, who became instantly annoyed. It was his worst pet peeve and he always used it against him. Grinning he said to Tsuyoshi's friend with the blue eyes, "Sorry, he gets a little excited about such things. I'm Tsutomu Hiromasa Fujita. We actually live on the other side of Tokyo, but our Otosan," he nodded his head in the direction of the temple, where Goro was standing, "likes to visit Jutoku-ji temple every year."

"This is my first time in this part of Itabashi Ward actually. I'm from a different ward," here he explained where he lived, giving directions. "If you ever get the chance you two should come see my dojo. I could use some new sparing partners; I get sick of the same pitiful opponents. What time is it? I don't have a watch on me."

Tsuyoshi reached into his kimono and pulled out the pocket watch Uncle Morinosuke had given him on his ninth birthday. "Err…six…forty…three. Give or take."

"Oh, I better go. I promised Okasan I'd be back with the tofu before seven. I'm going to have to run," he said waving over his shoulder as he sped off.

"Tsutomu, Tsuyoshi," their father's gruff voice called from the temple. They walked over, both eying the strange man with their father. He was short and brown haired. "This is Yoshie Sugimura-san."

"Did you name me after him?" Tsuyoshi asked, looking surprised.

"Kami help me if I did," Goro said, looking disgusted.

"That's funny, kid," Yoshie said with a laugh. "But no, both you and your brother are named after your okasan."

"We are?" Tsutomu found himself asking, staring at the man like he was nuts.

"Why do you think you both have T first names and H middle names?"

"I just thought that was a coincidence," Tsuyoshi said, frowning.

"Let's go, idiots," Goro said with clear derision as he pulled out his cigarettes. Yoshie smiled, glancing at the statue just behind him. Tsutomu followed his eyes to the statue, a samurai with fierce eyes, standing with his face raised as if to the firmament. He shrugged, wondering who would construct such a statue before following after his brother and father.

* * *

"Yoshie-san, how about we take a walk," his father asked Yoshie. The man agreed and the two left. He glanced at his mother, chatting with Ryoko about something.

"We're going outside," he said to her. Morinosuke waved a hand in farewell as they left. He grabbed Tsuyoshi and Wataru and hauled them outside.

"Touchy," Wataru said, looking miffed as he straightened his juban.

"Let's go to that kid's house now," he suggested. "Otosan isn't here to say no and what Okasan doesn't know is a benefit for us."

"I thought you weren't interested," Tsuyoshi grumbled.

"I was just acting disinterested; you know how Otosan listens in on our conversations sometimes."

"Right."

"So let's go. What were the directions again?" They talked animated between the three of them about the wonders of practicing in a real dojo as they walked. Tsutomu grew more excited every second; nearly running when Tsuyoshi said the dojo was around the next corner. It was huge with high walls and a large wooden door for the entranceway. He'd only ever seen one other dojo his whole life and it hadn't been nearly as big.

"Nice!" His sibling exclaimed, a marveling expression stretching across his face.

"Better then I imaged," Wataru said, looking like a kid in a candy shop. But to them who had never practiced in a dojo before it was. He just nodded his head in eager agreement. Wataru pushed Tsuyoshi towards the entrance, saying simply, "You know him best, Yoshi-chan, you talk to him."

Knocking with some hesitance they all waited with baited breath for the door to open. It took a couple more knocks before they heard shuffling and then the door swung open and a head peeked out. Staring in surprise at first the boy from earlier smiled in delight.

"Perfect timing, my Okasan and Otosan just left to go see a friend. Come on in," he stepped aside and the three boys' followed closely on his heel as he directed them towards the large practice hall. "Our schools pretty popular nowadays, my Okasan is always telling stories about the days when we had no students, but now we have almost a full class. Of course I'm the best, but some of the other students have potential.."

"What's your ryu," he asked, glancing briefly at the grassy stretch between the house and dojo before returning his gaze to the path leading to the dojo doors.

"Oh, our style is Kamiya-Kasshin Ryu."

"Never heard of it."

"We're not that famous like some of the other schools. This is actually our only dojo, but we're growing. It's a no killing style; my father always says it's very appropriate for this era."

"This is so…" Tsuyoshi's voice trailed off as the boy opened the dojo doors. "Beautiful," he added in awe. Tsutomu definitely wasn't sure beautiful described the perfection before his eyes. Just polished wooden boards sparkling with the light coming in from the slanting windows, a row of fine bamboo shinai against one wall, some peach zabuton against the wall to rest on, watch single duels, etc. It was his ideal dojo. He was just itching to pick up a shinai and test his skills in this professional environment. It was ten times better then being outside with a stick, having Goro barking instructs, and with a million distracts to keep his focus averted from the task. Here it was calm, like the few seconds before music played, quiet and patient, but with a sense of vigor, of restrained violence.

Wataru was the first inside, running across the floor to get to the shinai. He fell half way across, landing in a mess on his romp.

"I was going to tell you it's still wet. We just scrubbed it down earlier today," he said, looking anxious as he watched Wataru get up. "Careful there are still more slippery spots. Are you alright?"

"My arse hurts but nothing I can't handle," Wataru scrambled to his feet.

Remembering to be polite he slipped out of his sandals, barking at Wataru, "Take your sandals off, didn't you hear him say they such cleaned in here? Did Morinosuke teach you no manners?"

"As if his father has any to teach," Tsuyoshi mumbled beside him, carefully setting his zori away.

He nodded his head in agreement, taking several deep breaths. Goro had always said going into battle with your emotions not in equilibrium was the highest form of stupidity. It was that and that alone that usually got swordsman hacked to pieces. Skill could be acquired though practice, but learning first to control one self in the face of adversity was more practical. If you panicked in a fight to the death your opponent was definitely more likely to beat you then because of any difference in skill. Goro had told them there were times when they'd faced an opponent proficient in skill and mentally stable, but that it was becoming increasing unlikely in this calm Meiji era.

Of course if he persisted to ask his father about duels to the death Goro would add that since they were children they shouldn't worry about such things. It had always irked him that his father still considered him a child despite the fact that he was fourteen now, but he suppose he understood the wisdom in his father's words.

Setting a timid foot inside, he felt the hard wood through his thin tabi. Gliding slowly across the floor he dodged little slippery spots. Stopping in front of the shinai stand he took a breath, one hand hesitantly running over the smooth bamboo. He picked it up, feeling the weight in his hands. The shinai was of good quality, he gave it a light swing, watching the near perfect arch. He smiled, delighting in the feeling that the shinai was as close to a sword as he was going to get without holding a real one.

"You're strong," said the boy from his side, his blue eyes appraising, "but I'd prefer to fight you, Tsuyoshi-san, he has more grace."

He visibly winced at the remark. It hadn't been meant to be cruel, but it hit his sore spot. All his life he had been told Tsuyoshi processed the skill he lacked so he had always pushed himself further, fought harder, practiced longer than his brother ever had. He remembered all those days outside, sweat trickling down his back, the soreness of his arms as he practiced his memorized kata over and over again. Perfection was impossible, he knew that, but being better than Tsuyoshi wasn't.

Tsuyoshi laughed, "Kenji-san, I've no desire to fight you."

That was the problem. For all his skill and all his training at the art of swordsmanship Tsuyoshi never gave a damn to put any of it to use. To his brother it was merely him doing what their father wanted; he had no desire to be great at the art. Tsuyoshi would rather be well learned and visit abroad like Hideo than be a swordsmen like father.

"It is a shame," he remembered hearing father say to Hiroaki, "that one of my son's has the dedication and yearning to be a great master but no natural talent while the other has the talent in abundance but no drive."

He scowled, saying to Kenji's proposal, "I'll fight you."

"Why were you so adamant to come here, Yoshi-san, if you really don't care?"

Tsuyoshi rubbed the back of his head, looking shy. "I just figured Tsutomu would want to come here so that's why I mentioned it the other day. The dojo is nice, when was the school built?"

"I don't know," Kenji admitted, "Why?"

"He likes architecture," he admitted of his brother. "Now about this fight…"

"Hm," Kenji shrugged, "I guess I can fight you." Kenji wasn't aware of the slight to his pride and he also wasn't aware that he felt humiliated at the fact that he practically had to beg for a fight. "Want me to get some bogu?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Shinai can bruise if enough pressure is applied…I don't go lightly on anyone."

"I'll be fine. You should worry about yourself."

"My father tells me I'm a natural swordsman and I've had more years of training then I care to remember. I really doubt I have to worry about anything," Kenji's voice was disdainful and his eyes gleamed maliciously as he met Tsutomu's hardened gaze.

Silently both followed to either side of the dojo. He dropped effortlessly into his kenjutsu stance, his shinai raised to meet Kenji's. Blue eyes narrowed at him as Kenji bent his knees and raised his shinai. He felt a small line of sweat beat down the side of his face, dripping onto his juban. They hadn't even started any fighting and he was already perspiring, this was going to be intense.

He waited, watching Kenji unflinchingly. Any distraction would be costly if not deathly in a real fight. In a practice fight like this it only gave the winner bragging rights and the loser a knock to his pride. He remembered the lessons of his father and reminded himself to remember his pride during the fight.

His father had said pride was essential in everything and being taught Bushido at a young age his pride was his most loved feature. It was the only thing about himself he wouldn't change, the only thing he loved about his personality. Goro had even commented once that his pride was his favorite quality about himself and had said he was glad that he'd harvested a good sense of pride as well. But being proud, his mother had said, often meant putting one's pride before everything else, even love. And if there was anything his mother preached it was that love was superior to everything. His father had just rolled his eyes, saying that pride and love went hand in hand and had said no more on the matter.

He frowned, was pride superior to love? It made one better, made you strive and bleed to honor it, made you do great deeds, and dying with your pride intact was beyond honorable. It was the only thing he understood about his father and agreed completely on, pride before survival, pride before desire, and pride before need if necessary. Never compromise your pride, his father had always said, because losing it was losing yourself.

Love. He didn't quite understand love as well as pride. Love for his parents was unconditional. He admired the good man his father was and worshiped the ground his saint of a mother stepped on. But he didn't understand his mother's love for everyone. She preached tolerance with her love…and respect. How could he respect people he didn't know though? Why should he give a damn for people who were criminals, spoiled kids at his school, or strangers he passed on the street? None of them mattered to him.

No, he understood his pride because it mattered to him, it had a purpose and it fueled his ambitions. Respect and love be damned right now, especially in regards to one Kenji Himura. He was going to win this duel.

Kenji moved then, his movements blurred by the speed they were executed at. He saw the knees bend further, saw the first step, felt the whirl of wind at his back, and heard one step just slightly louder then the rest as Kenji prepared for the attack by steadying his stance. Turning around in time to meet the shinai aimed previously at his back, he forced his legs not to topple under the strain, bending his knees to adjust to the weight shift and balance himself. Kenji withdrew, a frown spreading across his face, before he came again, lunging straight at him and making him step back and parry again.

Only allowed enough time to grasp a quick breath he ducked as Kenji's shinai whipped across where his neck should have been. He brought his shinai up, but Kenji had moved away. Standing with his shinai at his waist Kenji glared at him, clearly not happy.

"You're faster then I gave you credit for," he admitted, wanting to wipe his brow with his sleeve, but not willing to let his guard down even for that small gesture.

"You're a lot stronger then I gave you credit for also so we're even," Kenji said with disdain. "In fact I'm impressed. How'd you get so strong?"

"My Otosan is one for perfecting one's good qualities. He knew I don't have the reflexes Tsuyoshi has or the speed you clearly process so he worked on my strength. I've chopped wood every day before school and carried water jugs home every evening."

"You're very dedicated."

"Thanks."

"Hm," Kenji grinned briefly before bending his knees and spreading them apart. His shinai he placed at his hip exactly where a real sword would have been sheathed at. He frowned, battojutsu? Odd way to use a shinai when there was no sheath. Remembering his training he recalled several ways to effectively counter battojutsu attacks.

He planted his feet apart, watching Kenji's hand as it hovered over the handle while his other clutched the sword as if holding a sheath. Lowering his eyes he noticed Kenji had his right foot forward. Waiting. It was all waiting here out.

He watched Kenji, watched the strain he put on his knees, carefully making sure to note the way his hand sat unmoving above the hilt. Any second now and those knees would bend, that hand would grasp, and the lithe body would come flying at him with impossible speed and determination to end this fight, but he would fight back, there was no other way. He would push Kenji, make sure he never underestimated him again; he would force Kenji to take him seriously. If he couldn't get his father to see the man he was he would make Kenji see it at least.

There it was! The sharp intake of sudden breath, the clutching of his hand around the white hilt, the move of his knees and the rustle of his hakama against the ground as they dipped closer. It only took a second, only a second of time for him to put up his defense, but when Kenji's shinai came in a blinding flurry of light tan it hit not it's intended target, but the hilt of his own shinai. Only a moment did they linger, barely allowing him to take a breath as Kenji's shinai slide down the length of his sword and off the tip. He was given another moment to bring his shinai up to defend himself only because of the split second it took Kenji to pull his arm back and execute another flawless arch.

The force with which the shinai hit each other was astonishing him anew every time, surely the tremor crawling up his arm was beyond reasonable. All they were was wooden bamboo practice swords; how could the strength in them be so awe-inspiring? What was it truly like to hold the weight of a real blade, to clash two katana together with such unbridled force? It seemed unreal to him and he couldn't imagine even a little what would be the outcome between him and Kenji if katana were used.

His thoughts were postponed though because there was no time to think. Involuntary action was all that the slim amount of time given to him allowed, each breath he took seemed to last a lifetime and it diminished the precious moment he could have used to better align his shinai for Kenji's next furious blow. Knock aside, step out of the way, duck, sidestep, duck, knock away, push back and away. The memorized kata he'd practiced was nothing like a real battle. There was no rhythm to this, no marker to follow, and Goro's voice wasn't there to direct his next sequence of moves. It was all guess work.

His kata was like dancing, a pattern learned well after years of training. It all had a certain order to it, you didn't divert from that strict order or you'd find Goro's angry voice and a smack on the back of the head waiting. In a real battle, well as real as a battle with two shinai could be, there was nothing but his memorized lessons to recall and the brief hints Kenji's body gave off. Every move Kenji made was spontaneous, probably because he realized a pattern could be followed and overcome. This of course didn't help him out.

Stamina, he'd always had a lot of that, mostly because of all the hard labor his father had put him through to build that up. Fighting Kenji now he realized the absolute importance of that attribute in a swordsman. If you and your opponent were equal in skill the only way you'd win is if you had more stamina. Or luck. Luck was a factor.

He wasn't sure now as Kenji attacked once more and he pushed him off if he would win. Kenji seemed decidedly more experienced in duels of this kind and he wasn't sure his stamina or luck would hold out. A moment came where Kenji backed off, moving several paces away.

Meeting Kenji's gaze he saw definitive awe and respect, which pleased his pride, and a flicker of something else less tangible. The gleam of it in Kenji's eyes made his heart beat fast, faster than the crazy adrenaline threatening to burst every vessel in his body. He tightened his sweaty hold on his shinai and adjusted his footwork to a more mobile stance under the attention of his adversary.

Kenji's assault came with as much ferocity as he'd expected, perfect speed and ruthless skill. He raised his shinai and blocked, hearing the thud the bamboo made on collision. The bamboo made a sickly snapping sound, filling the tranquil room with startling sound. He stared in horror as the splintered pieces fell around him, some landing on his kimono, in his hair, and across the scoffed up floor. A few seconds later and all he held in his hands was a stub. Before this all really processed in his brain Kenji's shinai landed across his shoulder. He gave a cry as the shock of it stunned him, falling onto one knee.

Kenji grinned triumphantly at his brother and Wataru on the sidelines he noticed as he rubbed his now sore shoulder. "You know, Tsutomu, you're really good, had me even a little concerned actually. That was a brilliant fight, you're moves were so unpredictable. Most of the Kamiya-Kasshin students I fight are so easy to beat because I know the exact order in which they use the techniques, they rarely ever deviate from Kaoru's teaching. You're style though, ah! Man, whoever taught you must be a master swordsman. Your footwork was excellent, you always kept your stance in alignment with mine and never lost me, most of the students can't keep me in sight. It stunned me honestly," Kenji kept chatting about the fight as he extended his hand to help him up. He took the offer gracefully, still rubbing his shoulder, sure that it would bruise. A large part of him was disappointed, not in his performance, he was sure as Kenji said repeatedly that all of that had been good, but more about the way he'd lost. He picked up the shinai.

"Kenji-san?"

"Uh-huh."

"How come the shinai broke?"

"Hum…well you'll notice if you're familiar with shinai that they don't hold up well under a lot of pressure. They're not meant to handle long fights; in fact most of the shinai here have only seen duels of a duration of a few swings. It's not only that though, I noticed the shinai was bending in the middle a few swings previous to the last one I gave, the wood was giving in the center where most of my attacks were landing. It's common enough that they break…err…how's you're shoulder?"

"I think it will bruise, but I don't mind too much. The fight was worth it. Thank you."

"I had fun."

"Me too," he smiled.

Kenji replaced his shinai on the stand, taking them to a little table of water and wash things. He immediately picked up a cloth and rubbed his face down, disgusted by the sweat that had built up. Kenji laughed saying intense duels did that as he patted him on the back. It was strange to compare the serious Kenji he'd fought to the voluble one now beside him.

Having an invitation that they could stop by whenever they wanted following them from Kenji they waved their goodbyes and left the dojo.

"That was so great," Wataru said, laughing, "I wish I'd fought Kenji."

"He was impressive," Tsuyoshi agreed, "His speed, definitely godlike."

"Godlike, huh, seems I kept up with him just fine."

"Pffh, barely!"

"Oh, so that's how you feel, brat," he grabbed his brother around the neck and tousled his hair. Tsuyoshi gave a cry of dissatisfaction, protesting the injustice as he laughed and Wataru hid a snicker. Next time he'd win, no broken shinai was going to be his undoing.


	58. Chapter 58: Tokyo, 1890, Part 2

Quick update+two updates at once=happy readers! :) Emokid45 and t42n24t thanks for the reviews, you're encouragements and words about the story inspires me and makes the story better. Thank you and a huge thank you to everyone else reading and reviewing as well. I hope everyone likes Tsutomu. I didn't want him to appear like a whiny brat, but more like a young man struggling with demons. He's got some father issues, but hey a lot of people do, even those who won't admit to themselves and others that they do. I know if my relationship with my parents was different I probably wouldn't be as independent as I am. I'm hoping to have a big confrontation with Goro and Tsutomu, kind of like the Eiji thing, only more explosive. I really like how Tsutomu is progressing, in my mind he's kind of like a little Goro in personality but with Tokio's looks. Tsuyoshi is to me more mellow, he goes with the flow, but that isn't to say he's just going to sit there when he eventually finds out, but that's later...um...anyway lots of changes for the Fujita household in the next couple chapters. R&R, thank you.

* * *

Tsutomu sighed, throwing his stick to the ground in frustration. This was impossible.

"What's the matter now," Goro's voice snapped from the porch. He could hear Tsuyoshi effortlessly working his kata behind him.

How could he practice this drivel when he'd had the exceptional experience of a real battle? The controlled slashing, the quick changing of footwork, the repeated attempts to get a certain move right no longer held the same appeal they once had. It was boring and felt useless now. Why practice this orderly arrangement when it had no place in a real fight?

"Tsutomu," his father was beside him now, glaring him down. "Pick the stick up and do it again. Where's your concentration today?"

"It died a pitiful death," Tsuyoshi called as he swung his stick, laughing. Father gave him a look that said words like that would not be tolerated.

"I just…I'm sick of this, Otosan," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at the eyes of his father. He could deal with the patient eyes of his mother when he spoke like this, but his father's eyes always made him feel like he was just complaining. He couldn't stand it.

"Sick of what?" Goro's voice was gruff as usual with a tingle of annoyance.

This was important to him so why did expressing his inner turmoil always feel stupid when he spoke of it to his father? He ducked his head, saying in a petulant tone. "I guess I'll just do my kata."

"Good," his father muttered, turning his back and heading back to where he had stood a moment ago.

* * *

Sitting up in his futon later that night he could hear his mother moving through the kitchen. His father's voice filled the darkness, saying irritably that he was going out for a smoke. He waited until he heard the shoji slide close before he stood and went to the shoji of his room. Listening for a moment he heard Tokio humming as she put the dishes from dinner away. He heard her light step coming into the living room and slid open his shoji to see her form bending to pick up the last of the dishes.

"Okasan?" He asked in a small sounding voice. He tried to make it sound more stable as he repeated, "Okasan?"

"Oh, Tsu-chan," she said, a smile breaking across her endearing face. He smiled back, coming out into the dim lit room. "Something the matter, honey?"

"My shoulder hurts."

"From practice with your father, no doubt. Is it sore?" She looked troubled as she picked up the teacups and saucers and had him follow her into the kitchen. "Sit on that stool there and I'll get my things."

He sat down, stifling a sigh as he slide his kimono sleeve down. The bruised skin was turning colors, almost black in the middle with dark purple around the edge. It had hurt like hell all during kata practice and then when his father had insisted he bring in the water for the evening. The pole on his shoulders with the two heavy buckets hanging down had nearly killed him. He was grateful at least that Tsuyoshi had begged Goro to let him do it, but he'd shaken his head and said it was punishment for his tantrum earlier. So he'd endured the pain it caused during the whole day and he had ignored the desire to rub it during dinner. Laying on the futon in preparation for sleep had only made it ten times worse. With distracts to keep his mind from the stringing he could endure, but not when it was at the forefront of his consciousness.

Tokio came into the room, ointment and bandages under her arm. "You're lucky I keep a steady supply of this…you didn't say it was that nasty looking. Let me get a good view of it," her worried expression made his throat dry out. He hadn't wanted to cause her to worry, he wasn't a little boy who needed her tending for every little skinned knee and bruise he got from playing, but that was exactly how he felt right now. He was still a child patiently being looked at by his mother with her concern clearly on her face.

It wasn't really that he desired so much to be a man; it was more that he knew being a man would make his father proud of him. He didn't mind the care, didn't mind the teasing -chan, or the playful ruff of his hair, he enjoyed small moments of feeling like a kid. He certainly didn't mind the concern his mother felt, actually it touched him deeply to know she loved him, but his father…

His father disapproved of love, of childish names, of carefree touching, of anything even remotely affectionate. So he tried with a desperation that stunned him to be that inhuman, to feel nothing and let nothing faze him. If he was like his father, gruff, stern, and unapproachable he would finally get his love.

There were only rare moments in his life that he could recall his father ever being proud of him, mostly when he'd been young, too young to really remember most of it, all moments his mother spoke of so fondly…how stupid! Why did he never feel like he was enough for him? Why did every word, every action, every thought he had seem to be displeasing to the person who's admiration he wanted most?

"Tsu-chan," Tokio said softly, her caring voice filling his aching thoughts.

"Yes?"

"I'm done bandaging this. I'll tell Goro to take it easy on you, at least until it is mostly healed."

"No, don't," he'll think he was a weakling who needed to hid behind his mother. "It's fine. It doesn't hurt that bad. Really, I did my kata today, didn't I, with no trouble. So don't even bother him with it," he won't even care anyway.

"You sure?"

"Of course," his father was always sure of his decisions. He had to be more decisive, he mused, his father thought he couldn't make up his mind most of the time…

"Well, you should get some sleep, hm?" Tokio said as she left to return the things to the toilet room.

"Right," he sighed, pulled his kimono back on and wondered as he rose where Goro was. It didn't usually take him that long to go smoke. Frowning he inched closer to the kitchen, opening the shoji. His mother was kissing his father; he lowered his eyes, ashamed to be seeing this loving show. His father was never affectionate; he didn't want to see this for it would ruin all his notions of his father.

He heard the cough his father gave to catch his attention and awkwardly raised his eyes. His father looked annoyed, an expression he could handle as it was common. "Go to bed," said the indifferent voice he knew. "And don't come out again. You know the rules, Tsu-chan, you stay in there until dawn."

"Yes, Otosan," he said, trying not to let his curiosity show. All his life his father hadn't let them out pass ten from their rooms, he couldn't understand it. What was the big deal? All his parents did was go to sleep…err…or other things. It wasn't like he was going to peek on them doing…well…adult activities. It was something more then that, something went on when they were hustled off to bed and it was way more important than any futon related events.

He went reluctantly to his room and settled into the futon. He listened for a small time to the chit chat of his parents, well mostly his mother talking to his father as he sat. He frowned at the ceiling, wondering how easy it would be to sneak out and follow his father. He doubted it would be easy at all, his father had ears better than Hachiko. He sighed, closing his eyes. Maybe tomorrow would be better. He could think up a plan on how to tag along. He'd never considered figuring out what his parents did after ten before, but for some reason it seemed absolutely vital that he find out now.

This restlessness that had built in him since his battle with Kenji just a few days ago was threatening to burst and if he couldn't get a shinai battle from Kenji again to relieve his pent up emotions he was going to track his father and figure things out for himself. Besides it was about time he learned the truth.

* * *

"I'm staying at Uncle Hiroaki's tonight," he informed his parents at dinner the next evening.

"Oh," his mother said, "I hope it's beneficial for Hiroaki-san, ever since Yukiko-san's moved out he's been disheveled."

"To say the least," his father added with disdain.

"Koishii, you know you'd be upset if Tsu-chan or Yoshi-chan ever moved out."

"Humph."

"I hope you have fun," he waved back at his mother before disappearing down the street. He had no intention of staying at Hiroaki's. He stopped at Morinosuke's house, saying to his mother who answered, "Wataru-san is staying the night at my house."

"I'll get him."

The look Wataru gave him when he stepped through the shoji was bewilderment. "I didn't make any plans to stay at your house today; you know how much your Otosan hates it when I spend the night."

"I know, quiet, let's take a walk." As they passed darkened streets he explained his brilliant plan as Wataru trailed beside him.

"I don't know about this," Wataru said, "It's risky."

"I'm all about risk."

"True, shame you couldn't get Yoshi-san to come."

"Oh, I didn't tell him about it. You know how he is; he'd ruin the plan one way or another. As much as I love my brother he's fickle."

"And your not?" Wataru inquired, looking amused with himself. He glared, he wasn't fickle damn it, he didn't know every one seem to think that, and if everyone thought that than Goro must think it also.

"You really think that?"

"Nah, you know I'm just teasing you," Wataru laughed and feeling slightly better he nodded. "So better get this plan started, hm, this is going to be fun."

He laughed, "I thought it was risky."

"Pffh, duh, I love risky things. They're usually the funniest things to do."

"Don't be surprised if he chews you out," he said, glancing up at the bright moon and rain heavy clouds.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he chewed me out for the color of my kimono. Every time I'm at your house he gives me a lashing."

"True, I always wondered why."

"I think I remind him too much of my father."

"You are lacking sense like your father."

"What was that, Tsu-chan," he stressed with blazing eyes.

He mimicked Ryoko's motherly tone of earlier, "Taru-chan, say goodbye to your Okasan."

"Ass."

"Your Okasan is worse than mine and that is saying something."

"Nah, your Okasan is worse."

"No."

A glaring contest held their attentions for several minutes. He lost when he turned his eyes away, saying, "I think we passed my house."

"Um…no…it's a few blocks yet."

"Oh right."

"You have no sense of direction, Tsu-kun."

"-Kun is better."

"Tsu—."

"Don't you dare." He turned, seeing a small flicker of light pass. He paused, watching as a man stepped out of his house. The man looked at them as his dog went ahead of him to the yard.

"Aren't you kids out a little late?" He swung his lantern, trying to catch their faces in the dark.

Tsutomu stepped back, away from the blinding light. "No. We live down the street, sir."

"Uh-huh," he waved and barked the dog's name. The dog was preoccupied with relieving himself and didn't come immediately. "You kids better get yourselves inside, it may be the Meiji era these days and this is Tokyo, not Kyoto, but we still got some nasty drunks around town. Take care. Come along, stupid mutt."

He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out after the man's retreating back. Wataru laughed and gave the man an obscene gesture before they prowled closer to their neighborhood. He shivered from the chilly night, pulled his kimono and juban closer in the night.

Wataru stopped him and out of the corner of his eye he saw his father come out of their home on the next block. He leaned against the wall, feeling the cold wall at his sweating back. Telling himself not to get too worked up he closed his eyes and counted to ten.

Wataru nudged his shoulder gently, making a gesture that said he was going. He nodded his head and watched as Wataru slinked into the dark shadows and he was left with only the sound of his heavy breathing. Calming his raising pulse and slowing his breath he nodded resolutely and started walking as soundlessly as he could.

He nearly tripped over a toy left outside a house; cursing in his head as the noise it made gave him away. He caught his breath and waited for his father's scathing anger. When it didn't come he exhaled slowly and dodging the toy with a fierce glare he promised to get revenge on his neighbors' as he began walking again.

The darkness was comforting as he moved in the night. The daylight was always so loud, so distracting, so busy and bustling. He hated it, but he adored the cool breeze, the whispering branches of the occasional tree, the almost noiseless night. He relished the walk, telling himself he had to get out at night more often.

He slowed, hearing Wataru's nervous voice ahead of him. He'd been caught, but that had been part of the plan. He hurried noiseless into the inn his father had been marching to, slipping inside as Goro, standing not ten paces away on the block opposite, yelled at his cousin. He tensed, the heat of the room surprising his senses as he moved inside. The man standing by the bar looked at him with sleepy eyes, head drooping onto one arm. He slipped wordlessly into the sitting area. He heard the shoji open behind him not ten minutes later. He watched with baited breath as his father wordlessly passed the barkeep and went up the stairs leading to the rooms. Frowning, only one thought occurred to him as to why his father would be visiting an inn in the middle of the night.

Revulsion pulsed through his veins and anger, a blinding betrayed anger, started to break though. How could he do this to his mother? Didn't he love Tokio? Hadn't he moments ago been kissing her? He felt the wetness on his lashes as he blinked and with angry frustration rubbed his sore eyes. No, that wasn't it. It wasn't like Goro to cheat. That wasn't…that couldn't be what this was. His father was too fastidious to keep another woman interested, he was kind of surprised his mother stayed sometimes, and he'd find it too much trouble.

So what was going on? He walked pass the barkeep, meeting the man's groggy smile. "Do you know where that man was going?"

"Which room?" He paused thoughtfully, "He was here the other day checking out the room for Watamori-san. I'd say try seventeen kid."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

He stepped lightly, making sure none of the boards creaked under his weight as he ascended them.

He went silently through the corridor, attentively checking for each plate as he went. 1…3…he winced when he heard someone cough behind the shoji…5…7…closer…9…he could almost taste victory as he neared the end of the hall…11…13…15…he took a breath…17.

He stopped, nearly passing the intended door on his busy shuffle forward. He pressed his kimono flat against his body, smoothing out any wrinkles. He licked one hand and flattened his messed up hair down, recalling how Tsuyoshi almost did his perfectly whenever it got mussed. He hoped he looked presentable.

He heard a soft voice on the other end, a man's baritone talking quickly. He didn't hear his father's gravelly voice, but he knew he was inside. He was sure of it. It was time he learn what he'd been denied all his life. It was time all the truth came to light. He stepped forward just as the voice's broke off, sounding almost hysterical. The shoji came open; getting stuck a little half way through from use. He stared as his eyes took in the ghastly scene before him.


	59. Chapter 59: Tokyo, 1890, Part 3

His throat and nose clinched painfully as the stench reached him and turned his stomach. He turned away and dumped out the contents of his dinner. He'd heard stories about people vomiting at the sight of death, but had never suspected to be one of those numbers. He'd never thought about the scent of death or the horrific sight. He'd never allowed himself to think about it, death wasn't a part of his life.

Now he was face to face with it and it terrified and horrified him. He stood from his crouched over position, moving away from the pungent smell of his vomit. He turned his pale face and wide eyes back to what was before him.

The head severed from its body fell forward off the shagging shoulders and landed with a sickening sound on the floor. The body fell with a louder thump, blood slowly pooling on the tatami. Just a lump of flesh that had once been vibrant with life and the head…he didn't dare to even glance at it once. The face he'd see would never leave him if he did.

The flash of steel blinded him a moment as it finished the arch before it disappeared. The blade descended back into the darkness of its sheath by long skilled fingers. His eyes traveled up the length of arm to the broad shoulder and then to the lean face of his father.

"Otosan," he whispered and the head turned and his father was facing him now instead of his fallen enemy.

"Tsutomu," he saw the flash of recognition as his father's eyes settled onto him, surprise glittering in his eyes for a moment before winking out. "Didn't I tell you not to go out," his voice husky and low, his eyes narrowed. "Didn't I," he demanded when he got no reply.

"You did." His skin felt sleek with sweat under his armpits and down the middle of his back.

"Then tell me how this happened? Why don't you ever listen, stupid boy? Go home and forget this ever happened."

He clenched his jaw, glancing at the gaping corpse without a head. That man couldn't go home and forget.

"Didn't you say that you were different?" Better than the wicked corrupt people in society. A killer was lower than drug lords and brothel owners.

"I am."

"Say you didn't do that. Say it," was all a dream. His voice came out much stronger then he'd anticipated.

"I won't deny it."

He winced, "You just killed someone…" What should he say or do now? How could he ever look his father in the eye after this? "All you've ever told me was a lie."

"No," his father took a step towards him and he backed away instinctively. "I'm protecting you from scum like him."

"How is protecting me at the cost of other people's lives really helping?"

"He was evil."

"So he deserved death? Would you do the same to me if I ever strayed?"

"You know better."

"And what if they don't?"

"Tsutomu, you don't know what you're talking about. You don't know the full circumstances, you can't judge me half knowingly like that."

"You're making excuses for killing people," he snapped, "just like how the corrupt people make excuses for selling drugs and prostitution."

His father visibly winced, his brows pulling down, "Don't compare their filthy pleasures to what I do. I deal out justice they wouldn't get otherwise."

"Chikushou," he hissed, not one for cursing usually, but feeling now was a damn good time for it.

"Tsutomu," his father began.

"No, I won't hear it! You're a monster! You're not the Otosan I thought I knew! I hope you die for killing those people, you're the real evil," he screamed before turning on his heel and doing the only thing that came to mind. You run away from monsters so he rushed down the flight of stairs in the inn and out into the chilly night.

He didn't want to go home and pretend everything was fine because it wasn't. Actually it was probably about as far away from fine as you could get. Besides Otosan would return home and he couldn't be in the same house with that murderer.

He walked, not really knowing exactly where he was going, only knowing he wanted to get as far away from that man who'd been his father. There was no way he'd ever call that man Otosan again, not after what he'd just witnessed. His mind burned with the image of the dead man and he shuddered, more from the cold or the thoughts rolling through his mind he wasn't sure.

How long had it been going on? He was fourteen now, likely even before that. He grimaced when he thought his father killed people and why didn't the police do anything? Was his father an undiscovered hitokiri? And who hired him anyway? A corrupt politician like the kind his father had always shown disgust for? There were too many questions in his brain that needed answers and unfortunately the only man who could answer them properly was the one he'd just denounced.

He frowned, walking down a dingy part of Tokyo, unsure as to where he was. He continued walking, trying to sort out his jumbled mind and come to terms with his father's side job. How did one accept knowing someone who went around killing people, much less actually doing the dirty business?

He wondered how his father could raise a katana and kill people. He assumed his father killed people occasionally as a part of his police work… Wait a minute, maybe he was drawing this all out of proportion. Maybe his father wasn't a hitokiri, he was just undercover and his cover had been blown and he'd need to kill that man to save himself. That thought comforted him only slightly, but as sensible as the thought was he wasn't sure about it.

He'd used sticks in the shape of swords all his life during his training sessions with his fat…no Goro, but he'd never even conceived the thought that he'd have to someday kill someone with a real katana. He'd always just expected he'd keep a sword around if he needed it to protect his loved one's, but Goro…Goro used his sword to kill people who didn't even have anything to do with the safety of his family.

He shook his head to try and dispel his angry and confused thoughts. He settled beneath a tree as the rain that had threatened all day finally came down. The tree wasn't much protection and within minutes the drizzle had turned into a full downpour, soaking his kimono and chilling him to the bone. He pressed his sleek hands to his cheek, trying to regain a little warmth in his face.

He shivered, wishing for the warm comfort of the place he'd called home all his young life. Could he really return home now? Was going home and settling in his futon while his mother hung up his wet kimono a possibility? He'd come home more then once while it had been raining, usually getting stuck in a downpour on his way from school. His mother had always been ready with warm tea and a wet free nemaki to snuggle into. He smiled at the thought of his loving mother, but the thought quickly soured. Goro would go home so going back was not a possibility at all. Not with that lunatic there, it wasn't.

Did mother have any idea what kind of monster she'd married? He flinched, of course not. Their mother was too gentle, too caring of other people to be married to a killer like Goro.

He recalled his memories of him, of his stern airs when Tsuyoshi or he had done wrong, his settling for nothing less of good behavior, and his constant reminding that they should always following the code of Bushido, even though that code was considered obsolete by everyone he knew expect Goro. His obstinate do-what's-right-or-your-not-worthy-of-breathing attitude he now knew was far more accurate then he'd ever imagined.

He couldn't believe he'd longed for acceptance and love from such a nutcase like his…eh…Goro. There was no going back, he was Goro from now on and any thoughts of the man who'd raised him would be crushed. That man didn't deserve his love and that was that! So why did he still remember the spark of betrayal and pain in those amber eyes as he'd fled? He wasn't the one who'd tarnished his trust and inflicted pain, damn it, that was Goro.

He walked, not caring that he might get sick and it was freezing out. He wrapped his arms around each other, burying his hands into his sleeves. He had to move, staying underneath that tree wasn't a safe idea. There was only one safe place left in the world to him now that the home he'd known for fourteen years wasn't an option. He couldn't go to any of their family friends, like Katamori Matsudaira or Hiroshi Yamakawa, they'd just send him home to that crazy man. And as much as he loved Uncle Morinosuke and Aunt Ryoko and their family he couldn't go there either because he knew his Uncle would tell mother he was there and then Goro would come like a raging beast to drag him back to hell.

Now how exactly was he going to get there? He barely remembered the directions the boy had told him. He had to find Itabashi Ward and then make his way from there. He considered briefly going to Uncle Hiroaki's place in Chiyudo, but he didn't doubt that Goro would look there when the manhunt began. There was no way Goro would find him at the place he was going too. He did like the idea that Chiyudo was closer then Itabashi, but this other place was probably safer than Uncle Hiroaki's. Not that he didn't love Uncle, but staying away from Goro was his priority now.

The rain stopped and he gave a relieved sigh. He checked his coin pouch and found he had enough for a rickshaw ride. He debated getting the ride, it would give him more time before Goro started his search, but he didn't know if the people he was going to stay with might want payment for harboring a child. The rain had stopped, he mused, but if it started again he'd take a rickshaw, otherwise he'd walk.

The walk felt like forever and he was immensely grateful his mother had gotten him acquainted with the city because otherwise it would have taken double the time for him to get his surroundings and get to Itabashi Ward. His mother had always said it was good to know Tokyo like the back of his hand because he'd never know when he might need to know one ward from the next. Goro had agreed with that sentiment after mother had explained the benefit of having such knowledge, recounting the countless times she'd gotten lost when she'd first moved to Tokyo. Wataru and Tsuyoshi may have been better with directions but he could still do this…he had to.

He knew he shouldn't leave Tsuyoshi and his mother with Goro, but he didn't really have any choose in the matter. Goro wouldn't hurt them at the very least. He felt cold, his skin sleek and hair dampened to his neck and face. He pushed some hair from his eyes, glancing around. He was in Itabashi Ward for he recognized Jutoku-ji temple, having admired the place not days prior.

Kenji's instruction came back to him as he walked. The place wasn't too far away and he was grateful because the cold was starting to affect him. His damp kimono clung to his back, his chest, and under his armpits. When he moved the damp fabric rustled against his legs in protest. He shivered as a cool gust hit his already trembling body. If he hadn't been wet he would have been fine, but that wasn't the case.

He saw the dojo, the plate with the schools name hanging over the huge wooden door, and went hurriedly towards it. He knocked violently on the door, waiting only a second to listen for someone to come before pounding more forcefully when he heard nothing. He gasped for breath, waiting for any movement of someone opening the door. He ground his teeth together when no one appeared to be up. He pushed at the door, but it was locked from the inside.

He cursed, kicking at his blocked entrance in frustration. He needed to calm down, he was getting too worked up. Goro would be laughing at his pitiful attitude. He ground his teeth harder together, cursing the man. Whenever they'd trained together Goro had taunted him ruthlessly, goading him on, and he always resisted acting on his anger because he knew he didn't mean the words. He had to remember his training now and resist doing anything too rash. He took a few deep breaths, counting in his head like his mother had told him would help relief his distress.

He glanced around, wondering if there was a tree he could climb or a vine he could scale to get in. He was sure the boy's parents wouldn't like to find a stranger in their dojo when they woke up, but he really had no where else he could go right now. He walked the perimeter of the building, thinking it seemed bigger then when he'd first seen it. He found a tree in the back that would work.

He pulled himself up into the tree and began climbing until he was level with the wall. He took a deep breath, steadying himself on the branch he was on. It wasn't the firmest branch but it held his weight and was springy enough that he could use it to jump over to the wall. He slowly got into a crouch, bracing his legs with his hands still holding the wood. He lifted his hands and even slower then he'd done to get into the crouch he stood, waiting to listen to the creaking the branch gave. It swayed under his feet and he took a deep breath as if to calm it down along with his nerves. If it snapped under his weight he could always grabbed one of the branches above his head.

The branch stopped swaying, steadying under his balanced weight. He looked at the wall again just in front of him. It would take a good jump, but he'd always been good at jumping so he wasn't overly concerned. Taking another sharp breath of oxygen he lunged. He'd miscalculated the branches' ability to hold him long enough. The branch snapped just before he took his weight off and it threw his jump off.

His hands grabbed the top of the wall and he dug his feet in, his body firmly pressed to the cold wall. He took a breath, cursing his bad choice of branch. Goro would have told him he'd been too hasty and stupid in his decision making and he shouldn't blame the damn branch for his stupidity. He glared at the stone before his face, his hate flaring at the thought of that man's ridicule. He planted his feet and lifted himself up, hoisting a leg over the edge of the wall. He let out a sigh as he sat securely on the top of the wall.

He descended down carefully, lowering his body by holding onto the top of the wall. He rolled when he dropped down and checked his legs, hoping he hadn't strained anything. He was sure the height wasn't enough to cause injury. He was right. He smirked with satisfaction at his own competence.

He stood and noticed the woman standing near the house. She was about his height, her dark hair in a braid, and dressed in a white nemaki with a light over robe keeping the chill at bay. She looked like any woman would, expect for the bokken in her hands. He had no weapon and from the look in her eyes she'd used the thing before to beat people silly. He saw the calluses on her hands as she tightening her hold. The lantern she'd brought with her sat on the porch, casting light on her but not on him. He stepped forward, hoping that if she saw his lack of weapon she'd lower her wooden sword.

"I'm sor―."

"Oh you will be sorry when I'm done with you," she hissed, her sapphire eyes glowing with anger.

"I'm not a thief, lady," he said.

"Well you seem almost too clumsy to be a thief," she acceded after a moment, "I heard you all the way back in the kitchen. Here I get up to get a glass of water and what do I find? A boy sneaking around my dojo. If you're not here to steal anything, what do you want?"

"Wait a minute…your dojo?"

"That's right, my dojo. I'm Kaoru Himura, teacher the Kamiya-Kasshin style of swordsmanship. Haven't you heard of me? I've gotten a lot of pupils. Are you from the neighborhood?"

He was quite surprised she'd suddenly switched from feisty to cheery. He was pretty sure she would bite his head off if he took another step forward, noting her firm gaze despite her causal words.

"I'm Tsutomu Hiromasa," he said bowing. He refused to use their last name, he wasn't related to that crazy man anymore. "Kenji-san invited me over and I…well I have no where else to go so I came here. It was raining and I…I'm sorry if I'm unwelcome. I can leave, Himura-san, if I'm an unwanted burden."

"Oh you're a friend of Kenji's," she frowned, placing her bokken on her shoulder. "How old are you?"

"I turned fourteen last February, Himura-san."

"Himura is my husband, call me Kaoru."

"You may call me Tsutomu then."

"You really have no place to go," she asked, her eyes lingering on his still wet clothes. Not waiting for an answer she picked up the lantern. "You should come inside. I'll get you some of Kenji's clothes to change into."

"Thank you. I can pay you, I haven't got much, but I'll give you all I have. I promise I won't trouble you long."

"A friend of Kenji's can stay as long as he pleases. Just don't expect not to do some chores, Kenji doesn't do his half the time so you can pick up where he lacks, hm? It'll pay for your broad and food, how's that sound?"

"Wonderful, Kaoru-san."

* * *

He awake by a commotion outside his room. A man's boisterous laughter was what woke him from troubling dreams. He shook his head to dispel the image of his father standing over him with his bloody sword. He got to his feet and having been taught proper manners and because he wanted to distract himself he folded the blankets and straightened up the futon.

A cough behind him made him turn suddenly. Kenji was standing in the doorway, his head tilted in bemusement. "What are you doing here, Tsutomu?"

"Oi," his father hated when he said that, but then again he hated when anyone said that. "Oi," he said again just for spite. Kenji was giving him a look that said 'you're stranger than I thought.'

"I came here last night. Kaoru-san invited me in."

"When was that? I think I was asleep by ten…"

"A while after you were sleeping I think. I kinda sneaked in."

"You sneaked in? Like a ninja or something?"

"Or something. You're Okasan thought I was a thief at first. I'm really bad, she heard me from the kitchen."

Kenji chuckled, "Kitchen's pretty far from the door. How'd you sneak in, climb the wall?"

He got embarrassed, red flooding his whole face, "Um…yeah…actually…I broke a branch trying to get in, sorry."

Kenji laughed, clamping him on the back, "Don't worry about it, no one's going to care. Promise," he added when he saw Tsutomu's worried look, "you just folding your futon things will appease my parents. Come with me, I should get something in my stomach before I start my lessons and you're probably hungry too, right?"

"I am a bit peckish," he said as Kenji led the way out the shoji, off the porch, and across the grass.

"You talk weird," Kenji said with a laugh, "who talks like that? I'm peckish? Well, I'm starving sounds so much better."

Tsutomu blushed, "Sorry, Kenji-san. I suppose I get it from my mother. She use to be a lady of Aizu so I―."

"Tsumotu," Kenji said, turning fairly serious, "stop talking like that, you're just a kid. No need to be all -san this and -san that. I get enough of it from my Otosan."

"Oi."

"Weirdo."

"Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry for nonexistent things."

He glanced around the area when he heard the same laughter that had awoken him. He heard more voices now that they were closer. A female's high pitched voice was clearly distinguishable from the several male baritones. Pushing the shoji open, Kenji exclaimed happily, "Uncle Sano, don't eat all the food, you pig!"

He followed slowly, peering into the room from the door. Kenji bounced over to where the tall brown haired man named Sano was eating a bowl of rice and slurping down some green tea. A young man, slightly taller than Kenji, was shaking his head as Kenji and Sano started an eating contest. Kaoru and another woman had their backs to the door and were talking quietly.

He coughed awkwardly into his hand, glancing around fanatically. What should he do? He took a few steps inside, standing straight and unmoving like a stone statue. He tried to catch Kenji's eye so the boy would introduce him, but the redhead was preoccupied. He inched closer to Kaoru, noticing that the girl with the same red hair as Kenji was turning her head with his movement towards Kaoru. He hadn't heard any mention of Kenji having a relative with his hair color.

He froze up when the girl spoke; the voice that came out of the petite frame was clearly a man's. "Kaoru-dono said we had a visitor. Why don't you come and eat?"

He came over, embarrassment at the realization of his error on the man's gender making him feel like he'd already shamed his host. He'd always been taught that if a host was generous and good they should be treated with gratitude and respect. He felt like a poor guest.

The person he'd mistaken for a woman was on closer inspection clearly a man. He had gentle features that grew softer when he smiled as he was now, but they were all distinctly masculine. Even the cross shaped scar on his left cheek was a man's scar. A woman would never have such a scar as a woman was never in such a situation to gain such an infamous injury.

"Himura-san," the man could only be Kenji's father and Kaoru had mentioned that he was called Himura. He bowed deeply, his forehead just an inch or so away from the floor. "Please allow me to express my gra―."

"No need, Tsutomu-san," Kenshin said, smiling gently as one hand brought him up. He smiled back, even the man's eyes showed his warmth. He reminded him of Katamori, only with stranger coloring and features.

He sat down, glancing at the guests as Kaoru poured him tea and filled a bowl with stew. His mother rarely made stew and he savored the vegetables and hot broth as it went down.

"So you got a last name or what?" Sano asked around a mouth full.

"No. Not anymore."

"That so? Good then, mostly samurai who have names and their all cheats and lairs, ain't nothing wrong with not having a last name, kid. Heck I took my last name, Sagara, from my mentor as a boy. Sozo-sama was from the Sekihotai. You know anything about the Sekihotai? Not a lot of kids' know history these days…" He glanced at the dark skinned man beside him who sent him a glare.

"Okasan taught me my history. She's a teacher so she finds great pleasure in making sure my brother Tsuyoshi and I are knowledgeable about history. Goro," he spat the name with derision, glaring at his thighs, "couldn't write or read at our age. He learned later on."

"Goro-san?" Himura inquired in a soothing tone. He would have been fine discussing any topic but the one Himura seemed set on.

He ground his teeth together, staring up into Himura's eyes. Himura smiled almost sympathetically and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end in indignation. He didn't want pity, he was sure his look wasn't that goddamn pleading.

"He's…my…hm…you know."

"Your Otosan?" The dark haired man asked grinning, "oh and don't listen to Sanosuke here. He's an idiot. Not all samurai are manipulative money mongers, I'm the son of a samurai and I'm damn proud about it, no matter what Rooster head says. My name's Yahiko Myojin."

"I'm Tsutomu."

"Hey wait a second," Sano yelled, pounding one fist into the other and glaring at Yahiko. "Did you just call me stupid?"

"What part of stupid don't you understand, moron?"

"I'm going to kick your sorry ass if you don't shove off. I mean it Yahiko."

"Never could keep a promise, haven't paid Tae back yet."

"That's it, you're dead!"

Himura diffused the situation in seconds, like he'd been doing it for years. A simple reminder of the food and mentioning of their guest and poor manners and they were obeying like two guilty children. Kaoru was talking to Kenji who rolled his eyes dramatically and deadpanned. His mother on the other hand snorted unladylike and pressed a hand to her face to stifle her laughter.

Yahiko and Sano's banter reminded him of his and Tsuyoshi's. Yahiko was clearly the wittier of the two, though Sano had some good vulgar ones that he added to his list to use on Tsuyoshi later. If they ever saw each other again that is. Well not seeing Goro didn't really mean he couldn't see his brother or he hoped so. Goro might not let him come over.

He smiled, sipping the warm tea Kaoru had poured him. The good company, friendship and the love he felt among these people made this place have the real feel of home about it. His mother told stories of when there house had been filled with people, Katamori and Teru, Hiroshi and Uncle Morinosuke and Aunt Ryoko. Now Katamori rarely visited and Hiroshi was often away in other parts of Japan. Morinosuke and Ryoko were either busy with the children or work so they only came over occasionally. No, their house had stopped feeling like home a long time ago.

* * *

He watched the boy running away, his heavy steps loud to his ears. Aw hell…his son had just seen him kill a corrupt politician. He cursed, kicking the dead corpse as if it was its fault. Tsutomu's words rung in his head, "Murderer! Killer! You're evil!"

Him evil? No, he killed those who were really evil. He was a legal assassin bent on eradicating all those who had no morals. He was justice descending upon the greedy vultures of the world who would get none otherwise. He was justice, Aku Soku Zan.

So why did his son's disgusted face make him feel like he'd betrayed all that was good? He needed to explain the situation to Tsutomu, make the boy understand the reason he'd kept his work a secret, the reason he appeared the villain when he wasn't. He wasn't the monster his son had mistaken him for, right? He wasn't wrong, never once had he questioned his stance on delivering death to evil. He wasn't the weak Battousai who felt shame at his deeds. Yet his son's face blurred with tears, with disgust, with hopeless confusion made him pause for once in his quest. In the next instance he shrugged, beginning his tireless hunt again. This time for the boy he'd called son for fourteen years.

* * *

Japanese Words To Know This Chapter:

Chikushou-'damn you' in Japanese


	60. Chapter 60: Tokyo, 1890, Part 4

He raised the heavy axe and brought it down with all his might. His grip slipped as the axe sliced through the wood and embedded itself into the stump. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his kimono, flung the cut wood into the basket to take inside, and arranged another piece to cut. He clutched the axe tightly, inhaling and exhaling before bringing the axe down again.

"Hard at work, Tsu-chan?"

He smiled at Himura and nodded, "Yes, Himura-san."

"Why don't you stop for now and join us," Himura suggested as he put another log on and split it effortlessly into two.

"Join you," he echoed, surprise fluttering across his young features as he blinked. "My works not done yet."

"I know, but you may finish it when we get back. We're going to the shopping district."

Goro wouldn't have allowed him to quit until his chores were done, he would have insisted that he be left behind. Tokio wouldn't have had any of it though and would have either postponed the outing or nixed it altogether.

He frowned, he was use to hard work, he actually liked working, liked the sweat and the feeling of having accomplished something, it was a lot different than school, school he failed miserably because he could never keep from getting distracted and he always felt restless in the class. Tsuyoshi succeeded with flying colors, probably taking after mother.

"Um…I think I should finish this first, Himura-san. Everyone should go without me," he mumbled, putting another log on. Himura frowned, a small twitch of his lips pulling downward.

"Tsutomu-san," Himura said, in that kind tone of his. "There is nothing wrong with stopping for a moment."

"A few hours you mean," he grumbled, bringing the axe down with more pressure than was necessary to cut the log.

"A break―."

"Is unnecessary and acceptable for idiots," he replied, frowning. He blinked, realizing he'd been speaking the words of Goro and not his own. He dropped the axe, watching as it fell into the grass. The body, the sword, the evil. He shuddered, instinctively reaching up and touching his throat. Himura picked the axe up and with a swing set it in the chopping block.

"I think you need a break," Himura said, a small smile curving his lips.

"I think I do too," he admitted sheepishly.

* * *

He followed slowly behind Kenji, fear closing his throat and making him look around the area with worry. He shook his head, telling himself fear was useless, Goro wouldn't be looking for him in this ward.

He tried to relax, to let his taunt muscles loosen, but it was hard to do while he was thinking about it. Instead he trained his eyes on Kenji's back, watching as his flaming red hair swished back and forth. He remembered the acute color of the blood around the headless body, recalling vividly the fetor smell, the darkness of the room, the vomit.

"Tsutomu," he flushed in surprise, opening his eyes wider when he realized he'd scrunched them tightly to block out the memories. "You bumped into me."

"Sorry, Kenji-san."

"Just watch where you're going, stop daydreaming," Kenji said with a playful shove and a laugh.

He saw out of the corner of his eyes some sailors' loitering about by a tavern, Americans or Europeans he didn't know. He stared at them, wearing neat uniforms and talking in incomprehensible words.

What was it like to stand on the deck of a ship? Did the sun's heat feel more intense? Did the boat rock under the waves? Did water slipped over the sides and splash them playfully in the face?

He felt a sudden yearning to experience it, a fierce desire to be a sailor with the scathing sun above him, the deck under his feet, and a course rail under his hands as he stared out at the wide, unending sea of water.

He was surprised by this sudden desire, he'd never considered what he'd do with himself when he graduated from school, but now, free of Goro's tight control and of his mother's constant preening, he had time to think about it without worrying about their disapproval. A solider, that was what he wanted, maybe a sailor. But could he kill someone, just like Goro? He shuddered, ducking his head.

He heard Kaoru laugh as they stopped in front of a store full of bright kimono. Himura said something and smiling happily they all went inside. He sat outside, settling on the steps. He wasn't interested in going inside and being cramped between hanging kimono and Kenji and Yahiko. Apparently Himura had the same idea.

"Mind if I join you, Tsutomu-san?"

"No." He scooted over to allow enough room for Himura and still give people entering room to get through. Himura smiled that strangely disarming smile of his, his violet eyes bright as the skin around them crinkled with delight. He smiled back, feeling the heavy crushing in his chest lighten a little.

"Want to talk to me? I understand, Tsutomu, believe me I do. I think first you need to tell me what happened with Goro." He turned away, as caring as Himura was he wouldn't be able to explain the situation to him. How could he tell someone about the fact that Goro had murdered someone in front of him? Impossible.

"I can't." Himura stood suddenly and he found himself following slowly behind the small man.

"Why not?" They walked, passing people in colorful kimono or western dresses and suits, smiling and looking so happy. He felt anything but happiness right now.

"It's illegal," he whispered softly, not wanting to broach the subject but knowing if he didn't say a little Himura would keep pestering him.

"You mean he killed someone in front of you?" Himura's calm eyes met his, his brown orbs sparkling with frightened discontent. "Come, let's sit by the riverbank."

"What about the others?"

"They will be fine without us. They've seen your…pain…we all have. Here, I found a dry spot and it's solid. No, over a little," Himura laughed as his foot pulled out of a messy patch of mud. He frowned, disgusted at the feel of mud between his toes. He should have worn his tabi today. Ew, it was slippery. He wiped his foot off as Himura settled a little way more uphill from him.

He sat down beside the older man, slipping his kimono down to his waist. Himura didn't seem to mind, Goro would have barked at him for being so immodest. It was strange, having this kind of freedom after having been without it for so long. Even at school when most of the boys sat like this he refrained from doing it, remembering Goro's stern words regarding proper manners. He blocked that demanding voice, he just wanted to enjoy today and be who he was, not the Tsutomu he'd tried to be for years.

"How'd you know, Himura-san," he asked, lying on his back in the dry grass. It tickled his skin and he could feel an ant on his arm as he rested it on his stomach.

"It wasn't hard to guess," Himura said, "knowing your father. I met him many years ago actually."

He blinked, turning a surprised face in the direction of Himura's lithe frame. Himura looked delicate, he mused, with the sunlight and the riverbed just behind him. His hair was more orange than Kenji's violent red and his violet eyes bore more sympathy and understanding of his position than Kenji's.

"How long have you known Goro? He never mentioned you."

"We first met back during the Bakumatsu. I'm thinking, Tsutomu, that your Otosan didn't say a lot of things about his personal past to you and your brother Tsuyoshi, correct?"

He sighed, glancing at the sky. The blue canvass above him was so bright today; one small puff of white was the only dot on the otherwise spotless color in his field of view.

"He was never one to speak to us of anything; he always demanded our adherence to what he felt was right and enforced it with brief words when we didn't see it. That was all that mattered to him, not how we felt."

Perhaps it was this difference that made it so easy to speak to Himura and not Goro. Goro was always judging him, always watching, always seeming to be waiting for him to slip, not Himura. Himura was so understanding, so gentle, and so kind. He gave respect and expected it in return, Goro's authoritative eyes always expected respect but he never gave any back.

"Um. He's a good police officer, but not an Otosan."

"What do you know about his past? Can you tell me?"

"You'd do better to hear it from him. It's not my place to tell you."

"He'll never tell me."

"I never said I couldn't tell you my past though." Himura was leaning on his elbows, his knees supporting his arms, glancing with a very sober expression into the water of the river. He sat up on his bent elbows, watching silently as Himura took a deep breath and shook his head.

"I was a very good swordsman, a natural, better than Kenji. My sword style was Hiten Mitsurugi."

"Were you good?"

"At what? Killing? Everyone can be good at that if they desire to, it's easy to kill… I just put my learned kata to work, it was easy. So easy to take a life, they never saw me coming half the time. I stopped giving a damn if they even pulled their swords out of their sheaths for the longest time. Until I met Tomoe…" He became sad looking then. "She was my first wife."

He stared, "Your first wife?"

"Yes."

"Tsutomu, you blame your Otosan for killing one man in front of you…do you hate me after hearing that I fought for the Ishin Shishi?"

He frowned, Himura was such a good man and yet he'd killed, Goro was a good man and he'd killed. "Killing doesn't make you evil," he whispered softy.

"If we judge by that do you think we have any standards left with which to judge?"

"I…I don't know. I know that Goro isn't a bad man…he…he's just…"

"Complete what your saying, Tsutomu-san."

"He's confused. Just like how I'm confused."

"Everyone is just walking through their lives, Tsutomu," Himura met his eyes and his face seem to glow in the dimming light. "Everyone is fighting to survive, to see another day of this wonderful world, no one is to blame, and no one deserves to be called rotten or evil. Everyone does what they think is right. You can't blame them for that."

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing wanted to come out. He took a deep breath, this ideology was so different then everything his father had taught him. How could he understand this, much less condone it? It made no sense. He couldn't deal with this way of thinking, how could Himura truly and honestly believe this? It was too…forgiving an attitude. Rapists were free of blame, murderers got no punishment, and thieves never got what they deserved, no…no…no… Blame was good, wasn't it? To some extent anyway, right?

He shook his head, "What about murderers? Rapist? Thieves?"

Himura sighed, a sound that was heart felt and deep. "You don't understand."

"What?"

"Have you ever stolen anything?"

He tried to recall a moment in his youth of when he'd taken anything, but he couldn't. "No."

"Should a boy, too young to know better, be punished for stealing…oh…say an apple?"

"No, but only because you said he doesn't know better. Adults know better."

"What of a man on the verge of starvation? You would deny him that apple and let him starve?"

"If he was stealing it…I…why doesn't he have a job?"

"Tsutomu, you're evading the question."

"I guess not, but only because his death would be on my hands."

"What if you were the starving man, Tsutomu, would you steal or die?"

Tsutomu frowned, glancing out at the river. The water rushed through weeds, cattails and stones as he stared at it thoughtfully. His pride and honor told him he'd let himself die, but a small instinctive part of him told himself if he was really faced with the choice that he'd steal the apple. "It's just an apple, Himura, taking it wouldn't harm anyone else."

"So you would?"

"I don't know. Stealing is wrong, no matter how you look at it. Even if it is only an apple, but…why…Why does it have to be like that? Goro…he…if I ever stole anything, even an apple…I don't…I don't think he'd ever see me again."

"Exactly, why does it have to be like that? Your Otosan values pride above all else, even you. Very few people ever stop to consider what they'd do in that position or how easily they could fall into that position. Instead they punish, condemn, and move on, not realizing they're causing more damage than the criminal act itself. You condemn one man he condemns himself far worse. He gives up hope and goodness, thinking he has no other choice now. When I killed people, Tsutomu, when I was the Battousai no one cared about me, they saw nothing but a murderer, even those whom I was killing for, expect for Tomoe. She showed me I was still human, brought me back from that black despair and it was because of her trust in me that my redemption was possible."

Tsutomu frowned, glancing at the grass. It swayed against his hand, tickling between his fingers as he spread them further apart on the ground. He took a breath, exhaled, and looked once more at Himura. "If that is what you're saying, if redemption was possible for…for you as the Battousai…then…"

"It's possible for everyone. That is why to cast blame helps no one."

"But what they did was wrong!" Tsutomu snapped, "They deserve to be punished."

Himura sighed, "So I should be killed or punished as you so eloquently put it for all those people I murdered during the Bakumatsu and your father too?"

He winced, turning sharply away from Himura's gaze. "I don't know."

"When it's your loved one's who've committed the sin, the evil acts, you can't bare the idea of punishment, but when it's a stranger, someone you don't know and who doesn't really matter to you, it's perfectly natural that they suffer."

"They did wrong though. What about the victims? What about the woman who got raped?"

"Seeing her torturer brought to death won't free her of her sorrow and anger," Himura said, "It helps nothing."

"Did you know my mother was raped, I don't think she'd agree with you," he snapped, shaking his head furiously.

"I wasn't aware of that. How long ago was it?"

"Years, it happened in 1871. I don't want to talk about it," all he really knew about what had happened to his mother was what he'd heard her saying to Morinosuke one evening.

"Tsutomu―"

"So what, Himura-san, we should just let everyone who ever hurt someone go free?"

"I'm not saying that."

"I thought you were."

"Extending a hand and punishment are entirely different things."

"What are you saying, Himura-san?"

"I think you have to figure this out on your own," Himura stood, "If you want to know more about my past you're free to ask any time. Or you can ask Kenji or Kaoru if you feel more comfortable. I'll see you back at the dojo, Tsutomu-san."

He sat, staring at the peaceful landscape before him and thinking. Himura's philosophy, if calling it that was proper, was beyond his understanding. He thought back to Himura's actions. How easily and with such generosity Himura had invited him into his home when even Kenji, his supposed friend, barely knew him. How he treated Kenji, not merely as his son, but as an individual person. His father didn't do that. Or his close friendship with Sanosuke. He saw Sanosuke's faults and never spoke out against them, expect to occasionally laugh whereas his father saw Morinosuke's faults and scoffed or belittled them with every remark. His careful handling of Kaoru, how he didn't treat her any less because she was a woman. It was the only thing his father and Himura had in common.

Comparing the two and seeing all their interactions clearly stated that Himura was the better person. His heart ached, to him Himura was a saint, a man unrivaled in virtue, but his father was a man. Or perhaps Himura was too, he just happened to be getting along more easily in the world. His outlook was different and it was that difference that changed how their lives' had progressed since the Bakumatsu.

He closed his eyes, he couldn't find anything in Himura to condemn…but his father was the opposite. His harshness, his actions, his obdurate attitude, his killing, all of it deserved to be condemned, but he couldn't. It was his father and he loved him, to condemn him meant he had to forsake his love and he wasn't sure he could.

What could he do? How could he condone his father's killings when his moral briefs didn't agree? How did his father do it? He sighed, burying his head into his hands. The sudden tugging urge to sob was so strong. He blinked as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Had Himura returned? When he raised his head and looked about he met deep brown eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Huh?"

"Are you crying?"

"What?" He touched his cheek, feeling the hot tears on his fingertips. He rubbed his sleeve across his face, blushing as she sat down next to him on the grass, folding her bright purple kimono under her knees. "No."

"Lair, but it's alright I forgive you." She smiled and her pretty smiling face tore at his bruised heart. Forgiveness…Was that what Himura was trying to say? He needed to forgive his father? Maybe…but how could he forgive when his father still murdered?

He shook his head violently, aware of her alert gaze on him. He admitted meekly, "I'm confused."

"So am I. Why were you crying?"

"It's none of your business."

"How rude," she looked coy now, her eyes bright with an intensity that stunned him. How could eyes shine so bright? He felt nervous all of a sudden, surely the glow on her face would dim if he continued to be so rude, he didn't want that.

"Sorry. I'm just…I'm having problems. Family issues," he found his hands extremely fascinating now.

"It's quite alright with me. I'm not exactly getting on with my father right now… He wants me to go to school."

"What's wrong with that request?"

"Nothing, if he weren't insisting that I go to a higher education school in Okinawa."

"Where?"

"The capital Naha."

"Wait a second…what's your name? I'm being so impolite. My names Tsutomu Hiromasa…Fujita."

"I'm Midori Nishino," the sweet tone in which she spoke left him feeling breathless. She looked so young, so cute as she looked down and some black strands fell into her eyes. He blushed fiercely, trying desperately to control himself.

Deciding asking another question was better than the silence; he smiled stiffly and asked, "When were you born?"

"Huh…oh 1876."

"Me too."

"When?"

"February."

He smiled as she pouted. "You're a month older than me."

"So you just had your birthday…sorry I missed it."

"You missed mine so we're even, Tsutomu-san." His heart leapt at hearing his name, it sounded so much nicer hearing her say it than anyone else's interpretation.

"Do you live in this prefecture," he found himself asking in a voice that sounded ten times braver than he felt.

"Oh, yes."

"I don't…I'm…um…living with some acquaintances."

"You're my age and you're not living with your family?"

"I told you we are having some problems, Midori-san," saying her name made his cheeks redden, was that too bold?

Before she could say anything though a voice from the road called out and took her attention. "It's my Okasan," she stood, "I guess I'll see you later, Tsutomu-san?"

"I'm staying at the Kamiya Dojo, the one that teaches the Kamiya-Kasshin style of swordsmanship," he said hurriedly, he didn't want this to be the last time he saw her smile.

"Oh that school, I know where that is. It's a really big compound. I pass it on my way to school. Well…I have to go…she's so impatient. Bye, Tsutomu-san!"

"Bye, Midori-san, stop by any time!" He watched her bright purple kimono and swishing black hair disappear from sight with a racing heart. He slumped, shaking his head. Oh, man, he shouldn't have let her go like that. He was never going to see her again.

He stood, damn it, why did everything have to be so bad at the same time? He trudged along the road, getting lost looking for the dojo. He asked a neighbor, who smiling spoke well of Himura as she gave him directions. Himura was the better man, everyone who knew Goro and Himura would say, but he couldn't hate his father like he wanted too and he couldn't condemn him either. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he had time enough to think. He was sure Goro was still busy searching in the ward their house was in; there was no way he'd think to search this ward.

* * *

Ah yes and so continue the adventures of one Tsutomu Fujita :) Fast updates are wonderful things, no? And any one know who Midori is? Historically she's a real person too, but don't ruin it for anyone in a review though by saying her significance, ok. I've no knowledge that Midori and Tsutomu have met historically in this scene, it's purely fictional. Thanks for reading everyone, lovely reviews, next chapter is going to be a good one, some Saito and co, not just Tsutomu and the Himura's. R&R.


	61. Chapter 61: Tokyo, 1890, Part 5

So here is the update, hope you all enjoy. I hope no one stops reading after this chapter because of the sudden character development that will surface in this and future chapters. Aku Soku Zan is a vital part of Saito's character and one of his most beloved traits, when I first watched the anime adored this unique trait about him that made him differ from other characters in the RK Universe, but in trying to make this as realistic as possible gradually that motto has to go. Aku Soku Zan is not only a complication in his personal life with his loved ones, but a hindrance on his character growth. I think it's about time at least one Saito story focus on Saito's departure from that motto, all the one's I've read all have him ASZ's people left and right. As cool as that is for the action sequences it is not realistic for everyday life. I always planned for him to get beyond the Shinsengumi motto just as Kenshin overcame Battousai. Kenshin as a character has awesome sword techniques, cool Battousai mode, lol, and cool hair and eye color, but it was never those traits that drew me in the most. It was Kenshin's oath never to kill, his wonderful peace loving attitude, and his generosity towards others that made him so lovable. I do not plan on making Saito into Kenshin, he's still going to smoke too many cigarettes (he smokes in almost every scene), sarcastic as hell, and generally grouchy, that's his personality and though it differs greatly from Kenshin, I adore him for it. These next couple chapters aren't going to be pleasant for our Wolf, he's going to go through some changes. To me this is Saito getting his big awesome three or more episode fight with Kenshin, only it's internal and less dramatic then in the anime. Everyone else, Ayoshi, Sojiro, Enishi, (Expect Shishio, he died) all got transformed after fighting Kenshin, through his words during the battle Kenshin got them to see what they didn't want to see or couldn't, now it's Saito's turn, but he will in no way, shape, or form will he become buddy buddy with Kenshin and company. Okay, so on with the story, sorry for the long author's note again, seems like I'm having long AN's lately.

* * *

Tsutomu blinked in the dim lighting of the dojo training hall. Outside seemed brighter than the sun, but inside the dojo hall it was dark, the windows providing just enough light to do kata by. Two rows of about six boys of varying heights, all dressed in blue hakama and white kimono, swung shinai in orderly arrangement. He saw Kenji in the first row facing Kaoru as she demonstrated a move before the whole class.

He watched a moment longer before noiselessly slipping inside. He set the wash clothes and water filled basin down on the table, picking up the dirty clothes from before lunch and taking them out. Himura was waiting patiently at the wash basin and his smile as he wadding over with the sweaty smelling clothes lifted his heart with warmth.

"Himura-san here are the dirty things you wanted," he handed them over and watched as Himura set the pile down. He lifted one and started to scrub it with a bar of soap. He wrung it out before handing it back to him. Snapping it straight he set the pristine cloth like a tent over the pole to dry. He smiled in satisfaction as one hand held the cloth and the other dug into his kimono to find some pins to hold it in place. The old Tsutomu, the one whose thoughts always rotated around what his father thought, wouldn't have been caught doing woman's work. The new him didn't care, work was work was work, why give it a label?

He started humming as he took the wet things from Himura, happily hanging the clothing. One of the futon covers they'd hung up earlier blew into his back as he turned to fetch a wash cloth. He laughed instead of getting angry. Himura chuckled, shaking his head when he saw the wet spot on his kimono.

"I bet the school's going to be done soon, Tsutomu-san," Himura said after a moment's thoughtful pause in his washing. "How about you go collect the rest and we'll be done for the evening, hm?"

"Sure, Himura-san."

He went to the dojo doors just as class was officially ending. Kaoru smiled at him as she passed, asking as she aired herself off with a flapping palm, "May we talk later, Tsutomu-san?"

"Of course, Kaoru-san."

Kenji, following right after his mother, said, "I'm going over to Yahiko's." He patted him briefly on the shoulder before walking to the house.

He went inside the dojo and stopped a little ways away from where some students still lingered at the wash table. One of the boys who'd just started yesterday if Kenji's word was valid said jauntily, "I can't believe this! Our teacher is a woman! My Otosan must have sent me here knowing full well I would view this as torture."

An older boy shook his head, "Kaoru-san is a good teacher."

"Right," a stouter boy added, "she's better than most of the teacher's at the Itto-ryu school I went to before here."

"But she's a woman! She should be cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry. But who does all that? Her husband from what I can tell. It's mixed up."

"Oh, stop, Jiro-san," one boy said, lowering the cloth he was using to wipe the sweat from his neck. "Kaoru-san's an amazing teacher and she get's the job done so stop talking. Why do you care?"

"It's not right. A wife has her place; Himura-san should be running the dojo. She has coarser hands than her husband! That's wrong, abominable!"

"Jiro-san, Kaoru-san's an exceptionally teacher and I've learned a lot from her. I respect her, woman or no. So shut up or I'll make you!"

"It's abnormal." One brown haired boy shoved Jiro and he landed backwards. And then before Tsutomu's very eyes all six boys started to either kick or punch Jiro. He heard the stifled cry Jiro made, heard the sickening sound of a fist flying into rib or a foot into legs and stomach.

"Himura! Himura!" He yelled loudly as he raced over to the commotion. He pulled one boy by his juban off of Jiro and watched him fly back onto the wooden floor with a thud. All he could think of was that they'd kill poor Jiro and that he'd have to witness a horrible death all over again.

No, no, no, his head screamed as he dodged a fist and landed a blow to one boy's stomach. The boy toppled over and another came at him in his moment of inattention after. He felt the blow hit his lip, splitting it open and splashing dark red blood over his juban and kimono.

He wobbled and fell, landing onto his bottom as Himura and Kaoru both came into the dojo. "What's going on," demanded Kaoru as Himura merely said, "Oro?"

Kaoru immediately broke up the fighting and lead all the boys to the center of the training hall as Jiro lay in a heap by Himura. Himura spoke only a few words to him as the boy regained his sense before helping him to his feet and taking him to the door.

He heard Kaoru's angry voice, biting as a winter wind up in the tallest mountains. "What is wrong with all of you? Why…How did this happen?"

"It was Jiro-san's fault, Kaoru-sensei, he was bad mouthing you―."

"No excuses," Kaoru said then, stomping one foot to silence anything the other boy's were about to add. "You are all students of the Kamiya-Kasshin style of swordsmanship, are you not? And what, my wayward pupils, is the number one tenet of our school? Violence is strictly prohibited. The Kamiya-Kasshin ryu is about discipline and self mastery and if none of you can control your violate attitudes and aggressions towards those of differing opinions you have no place in this school. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

"Yes, Kaoru-sensei," all six boys' echoed, heads down and faces full of shame.

"You may take the next few days off to clear your heads and leave this dishonorable behavior behind you. I give you until the seventh to return, if you decide this school and its ryu is not for you then so be it, but if you return you will be penalized and I will expect to see improvement. Leave."

Shuffling feet and soft "sorry," "we did it for you," and "we didn't mean it" trailing after the boys' they hurried out without further ado. Kaoru, arms still crossed, held a sad look in her eyes, her dark bangs hanging into her furrowed brow and temple.

"Your lip is bleeding, Tsutomu-san," Himura said as he held out a wash cloth. He took it gratefully, pressing it to his lip with a wince as it touched the tender hurt flesh. "I'm going to talk to Kaoru-dono."

"I'll finish washing."

"You don't have to."

"I know, Himura-san," he smiled. He picked up a disregarded cloth that had been flung onto the floor in the brawl's excitement and silently, wincing every now and again as his lips moved and strung, he piled up the dirty rags and walked out into the fading daylight.

The day had been perfect weather wise, the air just humid enough to be satisfying and the sun and clouds had made a coloration of white and blue in the firmament that had kept his mind's attention when he and Himura had worked. Walking out now he saw the dark colors of the skyline, the blue merely a faraway speck in the vast purples, reds, and bright oranges. Dropping calmly before the wash basin now with the sun setting a blazing red he recalled the death…small red dots near his own feet…the liquid around the body… the black western garb the man had worn soaked…the blood spattered collar just like his was now…blank brown red shoot eyes in a shocked face…

He snapped back to himself when one of the futon covers, dancing with the wind more violently then his fellows, flung upward off the line. He watched it a moment, not really seeing it, too distracted by his own thoughts to tell himself to catch it before it was lost. He pursed his lips to feel the awakening pain and to keep himself connected to his own reality.

He got to his feet and timing his jump just right felt the silky fabric in his fingers as he landed. He clutched the pristine snow white sheet to his chest, feeling the softness and catching a waft of the airy smell of cleanness. He closed his eyes; this was goodness, this clean otherworldly smell and the baby smoothness between his calloused hands. This was everything his father had killed in his eyes and he clung to it a moment longer, telling himself he had to let go of his naiveté, had to affirm to himself that both evil and goodness existed, they had their places, he'd seen that today by the boys' display, but one didn't have to choose between the two.

No choice was necessary, Himura had been trying to tell him, let Jiro say his peace and let him be, no action against him was required. Try to convince him through words and if words couldn't reach through fair action, through kindness and love and all that which was good, and if that didn't work then letting go was best. Do the best you can to help, but losing yourself to try and change the unchangeable or redeem those who didn't want redemption, was worse than any other crime. Like his father. Forgive, learn, and move on.

He opened his eyes with a start, relaxing all the taunt back muscles which had clinched on him in that moment of epiphany. He shrugged, cracking his neck, before nodding his head and lifting the sheet. He snapped it smoothly, brushing away any wrinkles before hanging it back up.

He'd go home Thursday and face what he knew he had to face.

* * *

Tokio sighed, leaning a little ways out the shoji as she heard the laughter of one of the neighborhood children. The night was coming quickly, too quickly for her tastes. She stifled another sigh, school had kept her busy, grading and teaching as she always did, and then coming home and making dinner had been some relief. But as Tsuyoshi sat and finished his soba and Goro, his food pushed aside, sat reading the newspaper all she could do was think of Tsutomu.

Why hadn't he come back? Almost a week and a half now he'd been away, hiding from the vicious hunt of his father and the police he'd recruited. Chou had checked and rechecked the poor districts, Yasuyo had patrolled the middle class neighborhoods nearby, and Goro had searched every inch they hadn't with Nagakura.

Where was he? Where could he have possibly gone? In an alley, far from bustling streets where police patrolled, begging for food with dirty hands and wide eyes when he saw potential people stroll by? Or was he among a group of rowdy boys, pickpockets for some cruel mastermind or hassling shopkeepers and taking what little they had for the ruthless yazuka? Or was he, kami forbid, half dead in a hospital bed after enduring some form of evil or other? She dared not go any further, dared not let her mind become weighted down with horrible thoughts of finding his corpse.

"Tokio, come sit, you're annoying sighing is enough." She huffed, glaring at Goro as she shut the shoji and came to where Tsuyoshi and he sat. She settled, leaning close to where Tsuyoshi sat practicing his letters.

"Need help?"

"Nah, I think I got it. Just those K's are so tricky to get perfect," he said with a shrug.

Goro was frowning as he read, his eyes darting through sentence after sentence. It wasn't a horrible sign though. As he had done every day since Tsutomu's leaving he brought a paper home, sat down, read first the death notices and then the criminal reports just in case Tsutomu had gotten involved in an unsavory group and his name appeared in the report. He flipped it to the side with police reports, his eyes quickly, meticulously scanning any signs of their fourteen year old. That was good; at least he wasn't a rotting corpse.

Tsuyoshi pursed his lips, moving the brush mechanically along the paper, perfecting his assignment with ease. Schoolwork came so easy; he wished he understood Tsutomu as easily. Why had he disappeared?

Goro and Tokio didn't say much about it, but her constant yearning gazes out the shoji all week and Goro's sudden reading of the paper did not go unnoticed to him. They'd covered up his sudden disappearance by saying he'd gone to stay with Morinosuke, but he'd easily found out the truth. Wataru had told him in a pensive voice that Tsutomu hadn't come back ever since he'd followed Goro into an inn in a dreary part of Tokyo.

He knew his father though, why would he let Tsutomu go out that inn alone? He shuddered, the other more morbid part of him said something disturbing had happened to his brother, he refused to believe that evil voice and squished it even as his fear rose in belief of it as the days passed.

Tsutomu was too stubborn, just like father; to let himself be…well…that horrible thought was too much. He frowned, noticing how lopsided his K's were. Damn. He frowned, balling up the paper he'd written on and picking up another empty stark white sheet. More carefully this time he wrote, his hand looking so little as he watched it move noiselessly over the surface. He glanced at his father's hand, noticing the strong boned structure of it as he held the newspaper, certainly a warrior's hand then the little boy's one he had. Tsutomu would have laughed at his thoughts, would have shook his head, saying he was more suited to swordsmanship than him so damn what his hand looked like. A murderer's hand…

He winced, shaking his head, noticing his mother's attentive stare he pretended his sudden wince had been because of some bad writing on his part and threw the almost entirely blank sheet on the floor next to the balled up one. Lifting another paper from the orderly stack before him, he straightened the pile, sighed, and scribbling some more on the snow colored paper before him.

"Stop sighing the both of you, it's grinding on my nerves," Goro spat, giving him a derisive look and aiming an annoyed one at Tokio. He lowered his eyes, watching as his sleeve dipped below his elbow. He pushed it back up and out of the way, slowly and quietly getting back to his assignment. His teacher Yamane wouldn't be happy if he turned it in as bad a state as his paper from yesterday.

Goro frowned, first at Tsuyoshi's ducked head and then at Tokio's slumped shoulders over her ikebana. Stupid kid. Stupid wife. Could they not for one second pretend to be happy? He huffed, flipping the paper smoothly to the back, reading listlessly through some article about recent thievery in the shopping districts. No mention, not even a vague lead that would at least give him something to do in his off time instead of thinking of his wayward son, even a lead that he knew would lead to a dead end would be agreeable right now. He couldn't stand this, this constant feeling of dread that seemed to drench their once happy home. He almost sighed himself in annoyance, but restrained himself at the last second. It wasn't good to be caught doing what he'd just scolded his son and wife for doing.

He threw the paper down on the tatami, ignoring Tokio's inquisitive look that begged for something, anything… He frowned, picking up his police cap where it lay next to his gloves. He twisted it in his hands, watching his long fingers as they moved restlessly. This was killing him, just as surely as it was killing the other two. He was just about to rise to his feet and say he was going patrolling, it would give them all some small hope, the kind of hope that kept half living people alive, giving a starving man a fish only prolonged his life a little and so would this until the brat came home.

He never got to rise though because a knock sounded at the shoji. He lifted his eyes from where they had been stationed on his cap, one hand lowering it to the floor as the other settled onto his knee. Tsuyoshi's incredulous face lifted from his work, a small tug of a smile beckoning to bloom when his brother walked through that shoji. Tokio, half hoping for his return and half frightened that it was not so written all over her face, rose slowly from her spot near the spring smelling flowers. This occurrence happened everyday since his departure, her eyes so hopeful in her bright face and Tsuyoshi looking his age once more, soon to be crunched so effortlessly by Hiroaki or Hiroshi outside. It clinched his heart, his stupid feeling heart, and made him bitter.

"Hello," Tokio said as she pushed the shoji open in the same bittersweet manner of late.

"Okasan," Tsutomu breathed, a smile as wide as his youthful face stretching across his cheeks and up to his shining brown eyes. "Okasan," he said once more, easily cutting the disbelief written on all three faces. He hugged Tokio then, a gesture of affection he'd not willingly given to her since he was nine.

"Tsutomu, my little worker," she whispered, her voice laced with awe induced happiness. "Tsu-san."

"I'm glad to be home, Okasan," he said, still smiling so peacefully. "I missed you."

She smiled back, the two looking so much alike that it startled him. Tsutomu had always taken after his mother, of course, but his eyes had always shinned with his own personality. Stubborn, willful, angry, ignorant and young. He'd been stubborn like a bull because that was an easy front, willful because he felt angry, angry because he felt unloved, ignorant because he was inexperienced, and naive because he was young. He'd understood Tsutomu, now he didn't and it made him uncomfortable. Those eyes, glinting hues of brown, echoed nothing of the son he'd known. They made him think of a man with violet eyes and red hair. He snorted, he was losing his mind.

Tsuyoshi stood, smiling, "Good to have you back, Tsu-chan."

"Good to see you too, Tsuyoshi." Tsuyoshi looked a little surprised, probably because his brother hadn't responded to the -chan as he usually did.

"You want to talk," he grumbled, glaring into those calm eyes.

"Yes," Tsutomu said without any trace of annoyance or ducked head at his glaring.

"Fine." He pulled out a cigarette as they walked out into the misty backyard. The green grass, the gray sky, the patch of vegetables that was the garden, the flowers dotting the walk, the entire world around them hummed with life from the constant raining of the last few days. Even above them the clouds hung heavy with rain that would fall any moment, suspended as if it were waiting for some invisible signal.

He felt more content in this familiar element and perhaps the cigarette in his mouth was helping too. He exhaled a long drag, watching as Tsutomu smiled at the area, as if thinking of fond memories of training out here or working in the garden with Tokio. He frowned; usually Tsutomu would have scowled with humiliation or rage at those memories. Was it so profound a changed that he didn't recognize his own son?

"Hajime Saito," he turned with a bite of a start, nearly losing his cigarette as he turned. People often said his name with contempt if they were Ishin Shishi loyalist or with admiration if Bakufu, sometimes even the other way around in this back world Meiji era. Tokio was the only one who said his name with affection, her eyes and face radiant with love. He saw no familiar hatred, no admiration, and no love in those serene orbs. He'd expected no love and admiration after what had happened, he expected anger and possibly hatred, confusion too, but not this. Not this undaunted peaceful soul before him, not fidgeting even as he sometimes did when he felt awkward or gazes too attentively watching his actions.

"That's what I found out. You're real name. Hajime Saito, third unit captain of the former Shinsengumi."

"Technically that's not my real name. Hajime Yamaguchi was the name I was born with, but I suppose that doesn't matter right now."

"Not this instance."

"Well." He was patiently waiting for accusation, cursing, demanding the truth, anything, but Tsutomu just stared at him with an unwavering gaze filled with neither blame nor hurt. This wasn't the boy who'd run away from him in the inn, this was a stranger.

Tsutomu shifted his weight, but even that well-known movement wasn't the same. He didn't do it to avoid the awkwardness or to hide behind; he did it as if he were thinking about some puzzle, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Are we going to talk at all or just stand here like idiots?" He barked in agitation, watching as Tsutomu's shifting ceased and his eyes looked up from one of the flowers' he'd been fascinated with for more time than was healthy.

"Sorry," Tsutomu shrugged, "I was just…well…I'm trying to think up a way to make this less painful for you."

"What?"

Tsutomu didn't quell under his scathing glare, just rolled his neck thoughtfully on his shoulders. "You see…well…I've decided my course of action, Hajime, now you must decide yours."

"What the hell are you going on about?"

"Please don't interrupt. I need to get this out. All my life I'll loved you, so much so that I didn't dare be myself around you. I pretended, hoping it would gain me your love, to be a stranger. I'm indecisive, I'm naïve, I'm petulant and expect too much from those I love, and I'm childish. I'm only fourteen. I should be allowed to be my age, you never cared what age I was, what my circumstance where, how I felt, it was always about one thing. Aku Soku Zan. Evil…swift death to evil. That's your motto, your motive for everything you do. You know, I never knew, never understand why and now that I do…it seems…so…ridiculous. All my life I was walking a tight rope with you, carefully you watched like a spectator waiting for the fall, and then when I fall…you'd put me out of my misery. But let's get one thing straight, Hajime," Tsutomu's face, soft and round, his eyes wide and so young. He looked away, was that really how he'd made him feel? But there was a truth to what he said, a truth he'd longed to ignore.

"You condemn the good in your belief. Betrayal, you wait for it always, but the one's who will never betray you, feel the sting of it everyday. You fear Tokio, Tsuyoshi, or I…that one day all or one of us will betray you and do some evil thing. Well if we did would you kill us?"

His eyes grew dark and Tsutomu sighed, a sound that for some reason distinctly made his heart ache far worse then the sighs Tokio and Tsuyoshi had given all week. "I'd kill you."

"Hm and Tsuyoshi?"

"Yes," his voice was hard as flint. He could maybe kill them, but his own life would be next.

"Tokio?"

There was heavy silence. Tokio? Tokio? The very idea of her being dead tormented him, much less the idea that he'd be the one to end her life. No, no, no, damn it! He'd kill himself instead; fix the problem by taking himself out of the equation. He wouldn't condemn her then and he wouldn't forsake Aku Soku Zan. He said it, so softly that it surprised him, "I'd kill myself first."

Tsutomu knew the answer to his next question, but asked it anyway, "What if Tokio were starving and having no other way, no other means available, would you steal to feed her?"

There was silence, he put his cigarette, now nearly exhausted, to his lips and took a drag, watching Tsutomu. What was he getting at now? It didn't make sense.

"I hate hypothetical questions. I never seem to answer them correctly."

"Your answer," his eyes were unblinkingly fastened to his face.

"Yes. For Tokio." He dropped his cigarette and squished it under his shoe.

"Would you kill someone for her?"

"Yes," he answered unswervingly, "I've already done that for her."

Now the hard part, the question that would challenge his very philosophy. "What if you had to choose between Tokio and another innocent person? That someone, a stranger, somewhere in the world, someone who's never done anything wrong. Would you let Tokio die or some one you don't know?"

He pursed his lips. What kind of question was that? What significance did that question bear to reality? That situation would never happen, why was he asking it?

"I…That's a stupid question. I'd never be put into such a situation."

"Rhetorically speaking," Tsutomu said, rolling his eyes. "Say some yazuka grabbed a stranger and Tokio and threatened to kill one of them if you didn't choose."

"Pffh."

"Stop evading the question," Tsutomu said, remembering his conversation with Himura was so alike this one.

"I'm not evading."

"Lair."

"Brat."

"What would you do?"

"I'd…" How could he let his wife die? But he shouldn't let the stranger die either. Tokio was his wife, his light, his love, the only person who understood him… The stranger meant nothing to him, some half known face, probably a wife herself or a daughter…or a man in love with a woman just as wonderful as Tokio. He shook his head, "I can't. I can't choose."

"Exactly."

"I don't understand."

"I know. Think about it. You will," he left, walking calmly across the grass and shutting the shoji after he went in.

"What did you say to him," Tokio demanded, her voice usually so warm, transformed into cold and angry.

"What you've wanted to say your entire marriage," he said simply, meeting her bristling eyes.

"What I've….what are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm saying, the fact that he doesn't value people for who they are, that he labels them and disregards them as worthless or praiseworthy. No one should be labeled and shoved aside," he said simply.

"It's not like that. Some people are evil, Tsutomu."

"No, it is exactly like that, Okasan. A piece of glass buried in the sand cuts you and makes you hate the beauty that you see. It that not so?"

"What?"

"Otosan, he hates them because they've harmed others, the criminals I mean, or because they raped you that day in 1871," she winced, looking distraught. "Whatever the reason for his hatred…it can not go on. It should not go on. Hatred, anger, it's consuming…it kills the goodness in people, distorts it," he mumbled, vaguely recalling Himura saying similar words to him one evening under the stars on the dojo roof as they sat talking about his life during the Bakumatsu. "So often people, all sorts of people, all good folks, let that feeling drive them, let it control them…but it's not right. The only emotions which are lasting, which should last, are love and respect. I'm not saying don't feel, but don't turn to condemn others because of your angry. Help them stand upright again, don't push them deeper into the depths of despair."

"Are you saying Judges are wrong? Politicians? Police officers?"

"I'm not saying that, Yoshi-san. I think it's just better not to judge people before you know them as people, don't just know the crime they did, know the reason for it, everything about them, but most of all extend a hand, that's what Himura-san kept telling me. It's easy to forgive and let go of your angry feelings when you care about others as much as Himura-san does."

"Are we talking about Kenji-san," asked a flabbergasted Tsuyoshi.

"No, his Otosan. Himura, Kenshin Himura."

"I met him once."

They both stared at her. "At a cherry blossom viewing one year. You two were still fairly young."

"I don't recall," Tsutomu said, frowning, he had a very odd memory of a weasel shrieking at him for some reason when he thought of cherry blossom viewings.

Outside it started raining and although the three people inside wondered about the lone man standing in the rain none of them moved to go fetch him. He was too reoccupied in his tormented thoughts even to notice the cold water rolling down his skin and dampening his kimono and hair.


	62. Chapter 62: Tokyo, 1890, Part 6

Saito heard outside the chirping of birds and the laughter of children playing freely in the bright sunlight morning. He'd come into the house shortly after the rain had ended last night and Tokio had promptly bathed and dressed him in a white nemaki. The scent of warm oolong tea waffled from the cup before where he sat, as he had sat all night long in the dark and throughout the sunrise only an hour or so ago, the smell pleasant and uplifting. Or the perfect astrosphere and day would have been had his mind not been in such upheaval.

Tsutomu, Tsutomu who'd caused all this emotional trouble, was silently munching on soba. Tsuyoshi obliviously ate his own soba as Tokio, glancing at him every now and again, sat stitching some ripped kimono.

He frowned, making a facial expression other than stoical in the last twelve hours. Tokio was watching him like a hawk, her face portraying anxiousness as she picked up his sudden shift.

"Tsutomu."

"Yes, Otosan," he asked, slurping a mouthful of noodle hurriedly into his month, a small smile gracing his face.

"Does Himura still live in that dojo? The one the Kamiya girl owns."

"Yes, Otosan."

"Can you say nothing else, brat?"

"What do you want me to say?" Tsutomu looked bemused.

"Nothing," he spat, he'd wanted Tsutomu to admit he'd been wrong, but he'd had little hope that it would be so. He knew exactly where Himura lived of course, he'd kept tabs on Himura just to make sure he didn't go Battousai and need to be put down. Clearly though the bastard was playing the part of the wanderer-turned-family-man very well.

* * *

He watched the mandate Himura family life all day and into the night. Kenji cleaned the dojo as Himura did laundry and Kaoru bathed after kenjutsu lessons. Yahiko came over around four and helped Kenshin make dinner and by five Sanosuke was walking in for a free meal.

He watched Himura from the shadows, the way he laughed and smiled with Kaoru, how he looked hopelessly bemused at Sano, or how he became confused by Yahiko's newly acquired slang or an outrageous outburst from Kenji. All of it startled and annoyed him. Himura the family man? A kid and a wife? Kenji was a little spitfire that he'd have to watch; from all the conversation exchanged it was clear he'd inherited Himura's skill with the sword, and he knew what naïve angry boys' did with swords.

Dinner of traditional rice and stew and then some sake for everyone but Kenji. Kenji whined about Yahiko drinking by his age at which Kaoru disapproved loudly and said it was bull. Yahiko left around eight, complaining about Tsubame's pregnancy being a real pain to live with as he left. That boy had never learned to treat woman with due respect. Kenji slinked off to bed at Kaoru's insistence that he had school and kenjutsu practice tomorrow. Kenji complained too much and his parents didn't enforce their rules strictly enough for it was almost midnight before Kenji finally heeded his mother's words. Kaoru for her part retired with a stifled yawn and a "don't take too long, Kenshin."

Himura poured another full glass for him and Sanosuke. The two sat in silence for a while, which was odd considering Sano's flamboyant personality, but perhaps age had made him more mellow? Or maybe not. From what he'd seen when all five of them had been together the man was loud and rowdy as usual so he assumed instead it was Himura's calming personality that contented Sano for the few second they spent drinking sake.

Sanosuke said flippantly, "What you going to do, Kenshin?"

"I don't know, Sano, that I don't."

"Well, you better make up your mind, hm, eventually Saito's going to come barging in, swinging his sword, and asking what you did to his kid."

"Sano, I don't think Saito will do that per say."

"Whatever you want to call it, you know he'll come. He isn't a dead-beat dad, he isn't gonna just shrug it off and excuse his son's new philosophy. He definitely isn't gonna be happy, Kenshin."

Himura just stared into his cup, his face expressionless. For a moment that serious look to his face, the dark bangs framing his feminine features, and his eyes hooded made him resemble the moody Battousai he'd once been in better days. He frowned, disappearing back into the dark shadows around the dojo, sure that as he left Himura had felt his gaze the whole evening and played nonchalant while his friends went blindly about their day.

He walked in the darkness slowly, trespassing on the dank alleys and narrow streets that belonged to stray dogs and cats as easily as he had in his youth. The closeness of the walls, the familiar smells of decaying garbage as he passed stoops and closed backyard shoji, the pot holes which he weaved around, the darkness of the night was his element as surely as sunlight Tokio's and water Tsutomu's. Tokio loved spending long days under the sun, planting her vegetables or laying in the grass or on the porch, basking like some sun loving snake or lazy cat. Tsutomu had always loved swimming, spending long summer days fishing with the water rolling over his toes as he stood with Tsuyoshi and tried, usually fruitlessly, to catch a fish, or taking a cooling dip in the pond at Katamori's, even though the man kept reminding him it was for ornamentation, not stupid boys. He'd never joined them in their happy pursuits, always working…but work was what he loved…and now Tsutomu…no…no…that was wrong.

Tsutomu hadn't asked him to choice between him and Aku Soku Zan, but still…still…it almost felt that way even though he knew his son well enough to know he'd never ask that of him. It would be like him asking Tsutomu to give up his most cherished goal, his moving force, his reason for everything he did…

He sighed, a sound that came out like a flustered snort. He leaned against the rail of Arakawa River, he was assuming it was that one or else it was the Sumida River because he was fairly sure he was in Kita Ward, inhaling deeply as he gazed out at the water scape.

Tsutomu didn't make sense, he didn't understand, how could he? Damn if he'd live in the debt of a weakling like Himura! Damn if he'd yield to his pitiful philosophy and its meandering compassion. He was the Law, Justice personified, and it was not mocked! Stupid pity, he'd spit it right back in his face! There was nothing on earth he and Himura shared. Himura was wrong and he was right and that was the end of the matter.

How could he allow Himura to hold dominion over him like that by saying he'd been right? He'd changed his son for the better, maybe, or at least made him less angry, and for that he was…no…no…because if he was grateful for the affect Himura'd had on his son he was indebted to the man, under his control for showing such weakness…damn it! There was no way he'd give the weakling that was Himura respect, much less his gratitude, he wasn't worthy of it as a non-killing wanderer. Perhaps it would have been better if one of them had perished back in the Bakumatsu…better than this challenging fight he was facing now, even if he'd been the one to die back then…

His thoughts were dangerously close to the brink, dangerously close to flying apart. He shook his head, but inside his head rang with betraying thoughts. Could Himura's philosophy be believed, that nonsensical ideology about love and respect? Was there even an ounce of truth to this valuing of people above their actions? Should his sins be forgiven? Should his crimes be reprieved?

No, there was no room to doubt everything he'd ever done. If he started doubting, he who had never doubted his whole life, it would be a trickling stream of doubt that would destroy him. If he doubted Aku Soku Zan…what happened then? Evil onto evil, it was all he knew. Judge people by their actions before words, before emotions, before anything else.

His heart as hard and unwavering as a chunk of stone was trembling, about to be cracked by his spiraling doubt and growing anxiety. What other way was there without Aku Soku Zan? What to believe without that which had always guided him? He'd always made sure every action he took was carefully measured to make sure to collide with his belief in Aku Soku Zan…but without that belief…what action was he to take? What about his promise to Hijikata? To himself? How could he forsake that?

The space around him, shrouded in thick shadows, was like his view on life now shrouded in darkness. He leaned on the rail, closing his eyes. His brain tormented by this doubt and quick rising fear shrieked with alarm. This fear gnawing at him was driving a painful tempo in his mind, a headache threatening to burst his unaccustomed weary mind. How could it be that such feelings had always been hidden just below the controlled surface? How could it be that he felt this deeply? His feelings, his emotions, threatened to send him into another looming tirade in his already overworked head.

He took a breath, feeling coldness at his back as the wind blew into it. He slumped his shoulders; there was no need to stand so straight without Aku Soku Zan. He couldn't give it up, he couldn't. If he gave it up now, all the people he'd murderer, Hijikata's and the whole Shinsengumi's faith in him, and his life built around Aku Soku Zan would all be for not.

He had nothing which set him apart from any other police officer. He was just as ordinary as Chou and Yasuyo. He was no different than any man that walked the streets. He was no better…Yusuke would be laughing from the grave… Part of the reason he'd joined the Shinsengumi, part of his desire all these years, though he'd never ever admit this to anyone, Tokio included, was to best Yusuke, to prove he was better than his father, that he was more than the bastard his father called him as he rained down blows or the dirt at his feet, that he wasn't as weak as he'd been back then. He was strong now, physically anyway, right? That put him ahead of Yusuke, right?

He'd thought he'd gotten over his father issues, but a part of his brain said he'd never moved on, he'd just shoved it away when he'd taken up Aku Soku Zan. When he'd taken that mantle upon himself, part of the reason had been to punish scum like his father, abusers, rapist, murderers…ha! He was a murderer too, evil onto evil. So he was no better in that regard either, not, at least, if he viewed it from his philosophy. But from Himura's? Humph.

Damn! Damn! Damn it! Because, said that same too rational voice of earlier, it had been his first lesson in evil and the pain that evil actions caused so it was harder to forgive, ("forgiveness impossible!" a seedy voice in his thoughts echoed sarcastically) than the other crimes. Was Ichiro's rape for Tokio her hardest crime to forgive because it had been her first experience with evil? She'd said she was over it…was that all pretense, a sham, a fool's paradise? Was she hiding behind her sweet smile? He shuddered, his neck stiffening as his arms tensed on the rail.

He'd rarely doubted Tokio and never about anything life altering. Doubt, he'd always taken it for bad company, something you never paid heed to because it could be misleading…but…but…perhaps never doubting was just as horrible a crime. He flung his head back, staring into the vast skyline above him. Would answers be more forthcoming if he stared not at shifting waters but rather the immovable heavens? He felt almost like a man praying to the intangible as he stood, half standing, half leaning on the rail, his shoulders' slumped but head raised as if in defiance. Of what? Of everything! Bah!

He wished he could just end it, this clinching pain beating in his breast, the suffocation and anxiety running through his mind at all this doubt, the ferocious desire to find some way, any way, help maybe, to end this. His hands clutched about the rail until they turned bone white as he told himself he wouldn't let go of Aku Soku Zan, but his knees trembled just a little.

He'd never been suicidal; it was one of those things that baffled his precisely calculated mindset for Aku Soku Zan had given him a life he'd never wished to forfeit before, but his life and his views on it was so changed now that it sounded almost pleasant instead of its former repulsion. If he had to choose between letting go of Aku Soku Zan and his personal life…well…he'd be damned, he'd get rid of these disturbing roadblocks by cutting him from the equation. That way he wouldn't undermine all he'd done in the name of Aku Soku Zan that had given him meaning and he wouldn't forsake his family which had given him a precious life.

The waters below him whispered in the night, their song of rushing rapids making up his mind for him. He climbed the rail as easily as if he'd been fourteen instead of forty six, one joint grinding a little as the bone rubbed in one knee uncomfortably. He stood on the thin rail with his heels, balancing a delicate scale, his eyes transfixed on the cool glass below. The surface rippled, the onyx moving by silent forces hidden from sight as he stared down. He took a breath as if to steady himself for what lay ahead, before raising his face to the indigo sky and letting his weight propel him into the air and off the rail.

He'd never wondered what death by drowning would be like and right now he'd wished he'd taken that into consideration before taking the plunge. His knee, the one that was treacherously becoming painful in his increasing age, hit the hard skin-like surface first, taking the impact and jolting his whole body with unnerving pain. He was use to pain, he'd endured it thousands of times during his lifetime, but the next sensation which gripped him was ten times more horror inducing than the fleeting pain in his knee.

Water, liters upon liters of liquid, rushed him as if to encase him in its icy grip, like Tokio's warm arms fitting perfectly to every curve, expect it was beyond cold and prickling every nerve in his body. He'd known water reshaped in the form of what it was placed it, but he'd never expected to be encased into a watery grave tighter fitting than his white gloves.

The instant his head went under the air in his lungs plummeted and water, sloshing into his nose and still open month took its quickly fleeing place. The taste of some of the water he fought to get it out by spitting, effective…not so much…but it was horrible, like fish…better yet…rotten fish mingled with garbage and a dash of cat piss thrown in…there was no better way to describe it.

Suffocation would in all likelihood be his ending. Funny, it seemed like such a pitiful way to go, worst than dying in his bed with his loved ones around him…like how Himura would go. He'd expected to die in battle or through seppuku with a proper second and done the right way…never this….never god damn self inflicted drowning suicide. He told his limps not to fight the pull of the current, his arms flung into opposite directions and his left leg nearly yanked off. He couldn't fight this battle, couldn't use all his force to overcome it, not this time.

The dampness was everywhere, more consuming than standing in the rain for two hours as he had the other day. His under arms had been relatively dry yesterday and his crotch, but everything was wet in this horrible prison of water.

His mind was drifting away from Aku Soku Zan now and his preempted drowning as his thoughts became less clear. He thought first of the financial hardship this would cost his family, how could Tokio raise two stubborn boys alone? She'd of had a harder time still if they'd kept Tatsuo too…

He thought then with a romantic sensibility more suitable to Tokio that she'd cry for him. She'd mourn, she'd cry, she'd be angry and in pain. Perhaps even in as much sorrow as she'd shown to him on Teru's death? The thought struck him, as sensible as he usually was, he ignored focusing on such emotion driven thoughts knowing he had plenty of time for them later if they had a place, but his negation of such thoughts wasn't necessary now. There would be no later, he couldn't prolong his feelings…he didn't need to hold them back anymore, not since he was dying anyway. What use was there in hiding emotions, in ignoring those weaknesses now, when they weren't applicable anymore and would never need to be applied to his life? He'd never have to see them in the harsh unrelenting light of day…not in this submersion of liquid.

So he thought with fondness of Tokio, gently crafting her face, her hair uncharacteristically let loose, with big brown eyes framed on a backdrop of flowers as vibrant as the ones in their backyard. He thought of her words, always so carefully said when around him, her smiles, her tenderness, her willingness to understand him even when he perplexed her to no end, and her appreciation of him as not only a man, but a father trying to do right and a husband doing his best and a…

He stopped thinking for a time, wincing as his lungs hurt. His mind drifted from subject to subject such as the current around him, thinking of his eldest son now. Tsutomu as he had held him as a baby, watching that pudgy, almost ugly face, grow into a child's round one and then a youth's slowly sharpening features. Tsutomu, little worker as Tokio was given to saying, he really was something to be proud of, despite all his faults and nauseating quirks.

Tsuyoshi, eyes as amber as his, his voice not yet come into it's adult tones, smiling as he showed him some trifling report from school that he'd merely scoffed at. He hadn't meant to be callous, it was just…well…he'd never had a father to praise his work...so he wasn't quite sure how to do it right, besides Tokio had been there for all that girly emotional crap, no? What need did his sons have of him for that? He'd taught them proper manners, hard work, and kenjutsu, was that not enough? That was all he'd gotten by with…it would suit them, right?

That rational voice was scoffing at him now just as he'd scoffed at Tsuyoshi. Had he really done more harm to them than good? He'd tried, did that account for nothing? Not in his philosophy, that voice said with disdain, intentions meant nothing, it was action, progress, that meant everything, doesn't manner who you are, all he cared about is what was done, evil…evil….evil…he'd screwed his sons up just as much as Yusuke had… No. No. He hadn't meant to.

He loved them. Tokio…Tokio too. How could he? How could she have let him just sit by and ignore their children for his work?

Aku Soku Zan? He'd been about to kill himself for some ideal? Even a strong ideal just didn't seem….well…worth it, not anymore, not when he wasn't alone anymore, when he had others who cared. But it was all he'd ever known…wasn't he just too old to learn now? Better to let this finish its course, struggling was…worth it…Death brought no release at least not for the living…he'd learned that during his lifetime.

He was afraid, probably the fear in him was an accumulation of a lifetime, and there was doubt, nearly as strong but not so odorous, and another feeling, one more unknown to him. He knew no name for this feeling, how long had it been buried beneath the rumble of his anger and hatred? It was a warm kind of flood, almost like love…with a drop of understanding…acceptance? He didn't know, it was a thought he mused with a delicious triumph, for later and one that would indeed be pursuit later and not abandoned.

The precarious situation he was in alighted in his brain just as surely as the storm brewing in his soul calmed and gave him back the senses out of their realm. His arms, when he moved them, weighted heavy by the strange gravity only allowable in this odd submersion of water. He fought with each thrust of his arm in a desperate attempt to find some way out of this liquid eternity. His legs, all the heavier with his soaked boots, flipped back and forth with all his might. He had never been the best swimmer, never enjoyed it and learned it with as much care as Tsutomu, but his drive had pulled him through every thing else and seeing as he was now officially enabling not only his head but his heart he was sure that this prison would not hold him.

Every nerve hummed in his limbs as the strenuous effort inched him closer to the distorted view of nonsense above his head. He saw flashes of light color above, likely those same heavens which he'd been gazing upon when he'd made that egregious mistake of jumping.

Breaking into the indigo sky dappled in moonlight with he was never more thankfully in his life to see the night skyline. He took several deeps breaths as he floundered in the water, getting his bearings. Seeing the shallowest and closest place to get out he swam over. He heaved himself out onto the blissfully dry bank, wondering as he did if he'd gained a few pounds more than he'd assumed in the last year. Fireflies danced in merry circled by some trees, like bright nymphs, making him ponder if he might have seen a few flashes of their glow as he ascended. He panted, feeling keenly out of breath, a sensation he found exceptionally wonderful when thinking he'd never take another breath just moments ago.

He lay for a long time, feeling the ground softening beneath his body as he dampened it with his wet kimono. White? Why had he worn white today? Like he was going to a wedding…he felt more like he had just gone to his own funeral and miraculously rose from the dead.

He sat up, glancing at the depths of where he'd just risen. Seeing his own reflection he was quite surprised by his unruly hair and the right side of his face and kimono caked with mud from where he'd lay prostate. He cupped some water and rubbed his face, his arms trembling slightly as he recalled that he'd considered the liquid his enemy not moments ago.

Was he weak now? He wondered as he washed, would Yusuke be gawking from his burial place and would Hijikata be shamefaced and angry about his betrayal? But what other course had there been? Hijikata and the Shinsengumi may have understood his reasons for taking his life about this conundrum, but not his family. They would have not understood his reasons, he could deal with Hijikata's fury or even his betrayed stare, but not the pained eyes of his wife, the jaded gaze of Tsutomu, or the sorrow ridden one's of Tsuyoshi. No…he'd rather be condemned as weak than lose them.

He stood once more, flattening out his kimono as best he could. Climbing up the river bank to the road with his bad knee protesting he started walking toward Bunkyo Ward. He had to go home, nestle into Tokio's arms and perhaps a fresh nemaki, and sleep. Maybe listen to the bickering of his children too, the brats never rested.

Opening the shoji he saw Tokio, sitting by the light of three candles, in the living area. Tsuyoshi was snuggled against her side, eyes drooping as she read something. Tsutomu was pouring tea, the action in itself was strange, Tsutomu's work ethnics were sounds, but he had a tendency to scoff at womanly areas such as ikebana and tea serving. Was that Himura's influence? Humph. He actually didn't fault Himura on this one, good job at fixing that little personality glitch in his stupid brat.

"Tokio," he said in a battle worn voice that surprised even him. He'd always controlled his tone precisely, never leaking out any trace of strain or emotional elements he found weak and being tired after a hard battle was weakness. Well, damn it, he'd already decided being weak wasn't so bad; he might as well stop griping.

"Goro?" She lowered the paper she'd been reading from, her eyes, as brown as he'd imaged them in the watery hell, widened into the size of saucers, her pupils nearly filling the entire brown in. "Goro, what happened?"

"I tried to kill myself," he admitted, too exhausted to realize a lie would have eased her worry much quicker than the truth, but he was sick of lying and keeping secrets from his wife and everyone else. He was weak as it was, nothing else mattered.

"You what?" Her look would have been funny if the situation was not so serious. Tsuyoshi sat up straight, staring incredulously. Tsutomu nearly dropped the tea pot, his knuckles white as he set the pot carefully down.

"Yes," he affirmed.

"Why? Why would you do that to yourself?" Tsuyoshi's voice shrieked a childish waver on more then one word, but he was young yet and his voice hadn't turned.

"Tokio, will you get me a clean nemaki? Or kimono if we don't have a nemaki?"

"Why?" Tsutomu's eyes met his, the fear and doubt in them radiating like a beacon in the night. Was everyone always so plagued with doubt and fear? Was he really not the only one? Was this normal behavior for most people who didn't have every action carefully orchestrated around an ideal? Who didn't have clear paths and destinations?

He stared up at the ceiling, finding some relief from his son's penetrating gaze and Tsuyoshi's frantic worry. Some release came as he noticed a small spot of mold near the corner of two fusuma, letting his mind go anywhere but nearer to his discomfort.

"I thought," He began, "I thought maybe if I deleted myself from the problem that I wouldn't have to betray my beliefs and I wouldn't ruin our family." His voice flickering in volume, getting almost loud at parts and softening at others. "It was easy for me…I've…I've always known what to do at any given situation, always been so sure about everything, because of my reassertion in Aku Soku Zan…"

"You've also been so strong," Tokio agreed, her smile sweetening a little.

He lowered his head, meeting her eyes in her sober face. "I've always wanted to be strong…I thought strength was the only measure of a man, not necessarily physical strength…but…being able to kill, being more apt at things than others, being a good officer, a morally better person…than…than Yusuke… It was all about him in my youth. I was always so angry at him for the abuse…for not loving me and Hiroaki…for hurting us... He messed us up far worst than I think he ever realized. He taught me to bury my emotions, kill them as effectively as I later killed Ishin Shishi. So I cut off my emotions, my anger, my pain, my sorrow, my stupid, stupid emotions which held me back from being enough, not only for him but for the love of others. I played the field well, blocking myself from others just as he had. I kept people at a distance, at arms length as I began my obsession with my motto. Okita was the only one who understood, he never judged me, was never critical, he knew me, the wicked horribly weak me, and accepted it. No one else did. Then he died. Ha! I wasn't even there for him who had saved me from myself!"

"Then hell, Echigo…" He paused, drinking some of the tea to smooth his parched throat. "They…did unspeakable acts…our supposed guards…" He stopped, vividly recalling the shocking images of that time. At least fighting in the war had some purpose and was never extremely malicious, not like how Echigo Province had been. "They took their turns at forcing us…onto our knees…and…well…Tsuyoshi is too young to hear this."

He glanced at his middle child, Tsuyoshi raised his sleeve while he watched and rubbed his nose, looking like a baby with his round face and teary eyes. Tsutomu looked little better, almost on the verge of deposing his lunch onto the tatami. Tokio had that sorrow ridden slump to her shoulders, the thin fabric of her kimono rustling against her trembling frame, her eyes big and teary as she tried her best not to cry.

"They beat us when we so much as looked at them…ha…we weren't people there, we were cattle to be moved around, treated worst than any animal. I ever hear any Shishi say Echigo was anything but horrible I'll punch his lights out." Echigo Province was not something he'd soon be over.

He sat in silence for a while, "My life was spared because of Kurasawa's influence. It was in exile in Tonami where I met Tokio while I lodged with Kurasawa." He smiled at his wife who smiled faintly back, brushing her tears away. He spoke a bit of Yaso, Ueda, and Kurasawa as Tokio made passing remarks about the ladies she'd grown fond of there. He spoke a bit of their lives in the following years, a brief mention of Hagos, of Kai Shimada, of Eiji's bravery that day, and of all the things their sons' had been denied their whole lives thanks to Aku Soku Zan and his beliefs that had derived from that motto.

"There is another matter too," he admitted after a moment of thoughtful silence. "You are aware of your cousin Tatsuo Numazawa."

"Um…tall for his age? Short brown hair? We met him at Uncle Hiroaki's last year when the whole family got together to celebrate Yukiko's graduation, remember Tsutomu?"

"Oh, him? Looks kind of like Aunt Kuni? The one who everyone made fun of for calling our family ancestors even though they aren't dead?"

"I think it was Uncle Morinosuke who did that, Tatsuo-kun didn't look old enough to know the word yet. That one though, right?"

"Yes."

"What about him?"

"He's your brother."

"Huh," Tsuyoshi's brow crinkled as Tsutomu's mouth opened a bit, like someone was pinching his cheeks together.

"Tatsuo Numazawa is your brother. Tokio and I adopted him to Kachiro-san and Kuni-san because they had no children."

"But he's like only four," Tsutomu combated, "He's a bit young to be our brother."

"He is. He…well…"

"He came very unexpectedly," Tokio admitted, looking suddenly nervous. This conversation she dreaded almost as much as the pervious one.

He nodded his head in affirmative, watching their expressions. Shock was written all over Tsuyoshi, Tsutomu on the other hand seemed to be in denial. It was odd watching those emotions on children who were typical very carefree. Slowly, nodding his head a little, Tsutomu's face crumpled with painful acceptance.

"Tatsuo's does have Okasan's eyes," he admitted bleakly.

"And he's got her ears too!"

"Now that you mention it…he does, doesn't he," Tsuyoshi quipped, frowning.

"Are their any sisters we should know about?"

"No, Tsu-san, there are no daughters."

"Does Tatsuo know?"

"Humph."

"He's only four," Tokio elaborated, "We figured we'd wait until at least high school."

"Or college," Saito added with vexation.

"You may have just had a life altering experience but your still a grumpy ass, Otosan."

"Sometimes I think I want to kill you, brat," he said, glaring.

Tsutomu smiled mischievously before refilling his tea cup. He asked soberly, "So what does your whole life story have to do with killing yourself?"

"Everything," he said, becoming suddenly pensive. "I had a revelation you could say while I was in the water. I thought of all of you, of the life I'd leave behind me, and I…I couldn't do it."

Tsutomu held his eyes, something akin to adoration shinning in them. Tsuyoshi just looked startled and confused, but behind that there was appreciation. Tokio, smiled, looking very pleased, her eyes brimming with affection.

He smiled, what was Aku Soku Zan and the philosophy he'd always adhered to in comparison with the love of his family? Important once, but not worth throwing it all away.

* * *

Is it just me or has Saito been smoking something this chapter? I didn't want him to come off as all mushy after the revelation, but I don't know…I hope everyone enjoys regardless, somehow I feel this chapter wasn't as amazing as it appeared in my head. I also hope I displayed Saito's frustration and other emotions at the bridge well. R&R and enjoy.

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Japanese Words to Know This Chapter:

Kita Ward-I know little about this ward, expect that Abe Kobo (famous writer, wrote mostly surreal nightmarish explorations of people) was born there and that the Arakawa and Sumida both run through it

Arakawa River-Japanese River spanning 173 kilometers, dumps into Tokyo Bay, and passes through several wards including Kita Ward

Sumida-In the Meiji era the Sumida use to be a part of Arakawa, but since the flow was diverted to prevent flooding it was renamed, it dumps out into Tokyo Bay


	63. Chapter 63: Tokyo, 1890, Part 7

Man the only person who noticed the Les Miserables connection to the last chapter was an anonymous reviewer. Besides the Javert scene where he commits suicide I included some lines from the musical last chapter scattered through, it was my muse last chapter. I was hoping other people noticed too, lol. Good job I guess (Some RK fans probably don't know what I'm talking about, just ignore this).

* * *

Saito pursed his lips, staring at the uniform sitting on the tatami before him. The white stripped sleeves lay perfectly folded. Not a smear of blood on the pristine blue or the white juban beneath. He lifted his eyes from the outfit and set his gaze on the black lacquer tray before him. The oolong tea steamed, filling the empty room with a pleasant odor. The soba, cold soba today for some reason though he preferred warm, looked extremely unappetizing.

He picked his chopsticks up anyway, determined to eat it. Yamanami would have scoffed at the waste back then and said the men needed to eat what was there, whether or not they liked what they were given. Half the time previsions had been scarce when they'd started out and even in the height of the Shinsengumi food had never been allowed to go to waste. Harada would have eaten anything anyone else didn't want, his stomach had been like a vacuum. Or Kai would have suggested an eating contest to Harada and the food would have been gone in seconds.

He put a mouthful in, eating slowly, staring listlessly around the room for something to distract him. How boring. The room was so plain, but Tokio had never been overly ornamental, she'd probably used the money for decorations on much better things. She was such a thrifty little woman. He smiled a moment, thinking of what she'd be like when her hair grayed and she became a grandmother. She would be perfect for that occupancy. It was a then shame that Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi were too stupid to probably beget children.

He eat some more before sitting his chopsticks aside. If he didn't finish the food Hachiko would. He almost grinned, Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi would never have been allowed to feed the dog their scrapes, in fact growing up he'd always encouraged them to eat all their food. Encouraging of course meant a smack on the head and a, "damn, brat, eat your grub, you won't get more later! No whining!"

He picked his full cup up and stared down into the swirling drinking. It was very light brown today, not the usual darker hue of brown he'd grown accustomed to drinking. Had Tokio changed tea suppliers again? Damn woman couldn't make up her mind about which tea supplier she preferred. He decided to step in the next time they went shopping and make her pick one that would be their supplier from now on. He sipped it, nearly wincing when he noted the flowery taste. He preferred a more wooden oolong, but at least it wasn't white tea.

He was just finishing up when Tokio came in, her smile lighting up her whole face. He raised an eyebrow, "Tatsuo-san just came by with Kachiro-san and Kuni-san," she said in way of explaining her good humor. "He's such a dear."

"Humph."

As she was about to take the tray out he saw her eyes take in the uniform. Her hands paused a moment so fleeting that he knew most people wouldn't have seen. He'd been trained during his Shinsengumi time in spying and part of good spying abilities was noticing such small shifts.

"Tokio."

"I wasn't aware you kept it."

"I was sure you paid a handsome price for it so I thought to keep it."

"I see," her brown eyes revealed that she knew his true reason as clearly as she knew everything else about him. "Do you want¾."

"No. I'll go alone," she was too protective, even of him, with her concern over emotions. Granted it was one of those things he liked best about her, but this was something he had to do all his own.

She nodded her head, grabbed the tray, and left him alone once more.

* * *

The air was crisp when he left the house, the sun high in the firmament with just a small touch of clouds dotting the horizon. The sun's rays practically kissed his skin and bathed him in warmth as he walked the rows of streets and back alleys. He found it pleasantly warm though, not stifling as it could sometimes get, but strangely comforting as if the sun itself knew the hardship he had endured the last few days and knew the pain he now felt.

The temple was as sober as always with the happy pedestrians going by and the hurried priests walking or cleaning the grounds. He bypassed the temple and instead settled before the statue. Hijikata's nose had chipped since his last visit and part of his sandals looked as if bird poop had been sitting there for weeks. He smiled as he sat down seiza. The real Hijikata would have laughed, even if laugher from him was rare, they had been dark times and laugher had been rare for everyone then. Expect, he recalled, perhaps for Okita who tried to laugh at everything.

He could see them now. Harada with his wild hair and a spear slung carelessly over one shoulder, Okita with his hand on his hilt, his eyes bright, and a beaming smile next to Sano, Kondo looking soberly at Hijikata but with a twinkle in his eyes as Hijikata's face remained elusive from expression. Yamanaka shaking his head, a book resting in his hands as Kai rubbed a hand over his bald head and laughed at some obscene comment by Sano.

They had been almost family. They hadn't been just comrades or just allies or just damn members, they'd been his friends. They'd helped ease the grief and madness and bloodshed of that era, they'd made it bearable and they'd given him some sense of direction in that murky tide of revolution.

In Echigo he'd tried to forget the connection, labeling them as nothing but former allies, his new name and identity had all been to survive that prison. Then freedom and life again because of Kurasawa. It had been easier to forget or at least to pretend to forget them in Tonami. Former comrades, old allies, deceased member of that old organization which had upheld Bushido.

It was easier not to remember them as people in this new era, this era that opposed everything the former one had stood for and which killed and maimed those who acknowledged the past too loudly. So he'd kept quiet, ignoring his feelings about them and his growing dislike of this new era that wouldn't let him be who he wanted to be. Others had moved on like Shinpachi or loudly booed the Shinsengumi to keep suspicion off like Suzuki Mikisaburo. Or like him, getting a low key job in the government ranks and hoping no higher echelon of the Meiji era got wind of him. Okubo had of course found him out, but he'd been a reasonable idealist and Kiyotaka wasn't so horrible to deal with either.

Marrying Tokio and starting a family he'd only become more cautious in his mentioning of the Shinsengumi. He had others who would suffer now if his supposed 'crime' of being a member of the Shinsengumi was found out by those who detested the very name, much less the ideals they'd espoused. He'd hid it for years, but he was sick of hiding.

Where Hijikata, Kondo, Okita, Harada, Yamazaki, Yamanami watching him? He had never been one for prayer, but he felt something of a prayer like respect and reverence was necessity when addressing the dead. He'd had to let go of Aku Soku Zan, surely if they were there they would have understood. He had to move on, to release some of this burden, and letting go of Aku Soku Zan was the first step.

"Forgive me, my friends, for not keeping my promises," he muttered softly and he hoped, if in the otherworld or perhaps waiting to be reincarnated, that they heard his words.

He set the bundle down carefully. He grabbed the pocket watch Hijikata had gifted him with as a remembrance of his motto from his pocket. He flipped it open one last time and checked the time. It ticked a sweet melody as it chimed nearer to the eight. He set it right at Hijikata's feet and pulled out his matches.

He was grateful it was not especially windy today or this wouldn't have worked. He lit a match and held it to a corner of the uniform. It flickered dully before stuttering out. He tried another, but it didn't even reach the uniform. Bending over closer and beginning to think he should have brought some flammable paper he could have tucked inside the cloth, the flame caught and began to slowly devour the Shinsengumi uniform of his past.

He sat silently and gravely, watching the small fire slowly burn the packaging and then the uniform itself. One sleeve caught fire and then the hem, the collar, and the rest slowly but surely started to catch. He stood when it was over and glanced once more at Hijikata's statue. The unreadable stone eyes gazed lifelessly toward the horizon, his face distant and unyielding.

Would Hijikata even care about his giving up of Aku Soku Zan? In death did one forgive and forget? Did it matter in the end if Hijikata did care? Would Hijikata's disapproval change his decision? Was there even anything to forgive or forget?

He turned away and walked down the street, hands falling to his sides as he moved briskly. He didn't slow his trudge until he found himself at the entrance of the police station. Opening the door he was greeted with a sleeping Chou, Yasuyo yawning over paperwork, and only a handful of people milling about or chatting at their desks. It was a slow day apparently.

"Is Uramura-san in," he asked of Yasuyo who blinked groggily away his fatigue at the sight of him.

"He went out for lunch about half an hour ago," Yasuyo said a bit too hurriedly. "He'll be back shortly, Goro-san."

"I'll wait in his office then," he marched pass Yasuyo's desk and Chou, lazily asleep as always, didn't stir when he flew past his as well.

Yasuyo nudged Chou, who lay half on his desk, one arm flung off the table as the other covered the base of his neck. "Chou!" He nudged him again, glancing worriedly in the direction of Uramura's office. "Chou!"

"What? Can't a guy sleep in peace?" Chou lifted his head slowly, glaring at him. "I mean, come on, the one day Fujita ain't working and you take on his task of disturbing me, asshole—."

"Goro-sama just came in…"

"Oh…"

"He didn't wake you up."

"Oh…"

"Do you know what that means?"

"Not really."

"Think, Chou."

"He's a loony, how am I suppose to understand that hard ass?"

Yasuyo looked like he wanted to smack him, but resisted his urge to say instead. "There is something really bad going on, plus he never comes to the office on his days off, even if he's really bored."

"Um, can I go back to sleep? I went drinking last night, got a serious hang over, Yasuyo, you don't even know."

"But something is up, Chou," it was too late though. Chou was already snuggling back into his arm nest and burying his broom head. He sighed, glancing nervously at Uramura's office. He grabbed a cup of hot tea from the brewing cups set out and went to the office. Saito was perfectly still, seiza with his hands on his knees, just like always. He appeared content, but Yasuyo knew him well enough to know something was wrong.

After all these years of working with him during good and bad times he knew the little signs to look for, some he'd figured out on his own and others from Tokio during their weekly dinners. There was the loose juban collar, not so neat as usual or so strictly straight. There was the small fringe of hair beside his ears that were oddly puffed up, he would have normally never left the house until he was sure those strands wouldn't even budge under the worst circumstances. There was too the way his hands gripped his knees. When he was feeling well they sat tautly on his legs, never moving from position, but today they were lightly placed, as if he'd forgotten to be meticulous even with them.

"Goro-sama?" He stood by the door, not sure if he was welcomed inside.

"Yes, Yasuyo-san?" He asked, not stirring.

"I've brought you some tea, Goro-sama."

"Set it there," he gestured approximately before him to the right. He set the cup down before bowing in leave. "Wait, Yasuyo-san, sit."

He sat obediently, watching the other with a questioningly patient gaze. He was aware for the first time of the gray beginning at Goro's temple. It was just the faintest touch in the blackness of his mane, but it was there. How old was he? Surely not old enough to be getting gray hair, but then again Hiroaki had gray in his hair and he'd had it for a long time

"How is the Mushisake-san case going?"

"Good," he replied, liking where this is going. Work was easy to talk about, particularly with him. "Mushisake-san was very cooperative after some forceful words, he gave quite the confession, even admitting to the Opium selling."

"That is good, you handled the case very well, I'm proud of your performance." Now he felt nervous. Praise from Saito was a rarity best not wished for, it wasn't that his praise was bad, it was that afterwards he typically expected the same competency over and over. Yasuyo knew though that investigations didn't always go as well as the Mushisake's case and he was weary of the expectations that he would undoubtedly assume from now on. Yasuyo enjoyed competent police work that resulted in capture just as much as Saito, but he didn't think it was best to expect too much from an investigation.

"Yes, the case was quite wrapped up, there was so much evidence. In fact Mushisake had kept his blooded sandals and—." He stopped, aware that Saito was sipping his tea and his eyes were distant. It was rare for him not to listen, particularly about crime reports, he was like a rabid Wolf catching the hint of prey, but not today it seemed. Today was all strangeness from him.

Silence came between them. His mind went through all of Saito's behavior lately, but nothing of importance came to mind. He'd acted perfectly consistent until today. Had something happened yesterday? He'd had yesterday and today off. What had happened in the meantime?

Laughter floated from the other room along with Uramura's boisterous voice echoing through the room. He heard Chou talking too, probably just awaken by Uramura. He met Saito's eyes and the other merely nodded. He stood and left. Uramura raised an eyebrow when he saw him coming from his office.

"Fujita-sama is here to see you, Uramura-sama."

"I see, thank you, Yasuyo-san."

Going into his office he saw Saito, a bundle on his left and tea, half empty, to his right. He set the report he'd looked over during his lunch hour on his desk. He sat down, pulling his gloves off, he hated wearing them when he was inside, and set his hat next to the table.

"Well, Fujita-san, what brings you here on your day off? You settle the Arai-san case?"

"Yes. The report is in my office. Also both Kisoya-san cases, Chiba-san case, Ono-san, and the Koga-san cases are all done in my office."

"Heh? Isn't that all your cases right now? Good job. I'll give you some new ones tomorrow. How about that Mushisake-san case old Yasuyo just wrapped up. He did an excellent job, no?"

"Yes, he did, it was easy assignment though. I think Yasuyo should be promoted, Uramura-san, to Assistant Inspector immediately."

Uramura raised his head from his paperwork, frowning. "We already discussed this. We planned on giving him harder and harder cases until he was ready. He's done very well so far, a few more cases and then I'll—."

"I think he can handle the work. You'll need a new Inspector when I leave anyway, Yasuyo will cope."

"What?"

"All my resignation papers are in that bundle and my uniform."

"Your resigning?" Uramura looked ballistic, "When did you decide this?"

"Yesterday actually."

"You've been planning this?"

"No. I had some unpleasant experiences lately, Uramura-san, and I am incapability of working here anymore. I apologize if this is sudden."

"Why," Uramura demanded. "I planned on handing the police department over to your competent hands in about five or so years and what do you decide? You want to leave right before. You're ruining all my careful planning!"

"It was not my intention, Uramura-san."

"Did one of the other police departments get you? Or the government offer you a nice military spot? Goddamn them if it was the government, I didn't think you'd take such crap."

"Uramura-san!" His startled look sent him over the edge. "Listen. I do not plan this, it happened. I enjoyed my time here, you, Yasuyo-san, hell even Chou, have been nothing but honorable people who I've served my time with here. I liked the environment, the work, and the people, do not doubt that. But," he stressed, looking almost tired, "some moral dilemmas require that I leave."

"Are you leaving because your family doesn't like your work?" There was silence a moment as Uramura thought he was right.

"No. I did not decide to leave because of them. They influenced my decision certainly, but they were not my deciding factor."

"What then?"

"I've given up Aku Soku Zan." Uramura's eyes went wide as his previously red face paled. Never in his whole life had Uramura thought he'd hear those words from those lips. It seemed almost like he'd died and this was death's horrible end, the nonsensical impossible that would never have occurred in the real world.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Tsutomu gave me a push, made me see the truth I did not want to acknowledge…I took a leap, so to speak, and now I…I can not go back, even if I should like to. Aku Soku Zan has no place with me anymore. I must move on…I must become the man I was truly meant to be."

His eyes, sharp and gold in his gaze, were not so much changed and even Saito was still himself. Aku Soku Zan did not define the man, Uramura thought, and now Saito would find something else to live for, like a normal person who changed and kept going down the long tedious road of life.

Uramura stood and smiled, "We'll miss you here, don't forget to drop by now and again."

"Thank you," Saito took his hand and although he wasn't smiling, Uramura thought, this was the first time his eyes smiled back without distrust.

He walked briskly, moving pass bright colored pedestrians in western garb or kimono. Two more stops before he could return home. Katamori was sitting in his garden, legs folded on his little bench. He remembered Teruhime stating how much she loved this garden and sitting out here.

"Katamori-sama."

Katamori turned and smiled, waving him lazily over.

"Ah, Fujita-kun, I was not expecting you. How was your day? Is Tokio at school still?"

"She does not get off until later, I thought you knew that. Her day has all but begun."

"Of course, it is early yet no? I was never one for tracking time meticulously."

"Humph." Neither spoke, listening to the fish splash in the pond and the sweet melody of a bird in a tree somewhere nearby. "You preferred to track time by events, I suppose."

"That is more interesting than tracking the hours of a single day I think," Katamori smiled and threw some fish food beside him into the mellow pond. A brightly scaled fish swam over and began gobbling up the pieces as they watched.

"I have renounced my motto."

A sober silence as Katamori's hand, still midair, hung suspended before dropping gracefully to his knee. "A surprise for such a lovely day."

"Humph."

"Are you disgruntled?"

"No."

"Hm… Let me ask then before you give the details. Was it voluntarily? You decided, not Tokio, not Tsutomu, not Tsuyoshi, not one else, you and you alone decided it was time?"

"Yes."

Katamori closed his eyes, his pale lips twitching just a tad. Raising his face and opening his eyes, those dark orbs glistened in his face as his lips blossomed into a smile more alive and real than any rose bloom. The face of a human in happiness was greater than any natural beauty.

"I can not say how happy I am for you. I had thought…I thought I'd condemned you willingly to a life of unbearable pain and duty. I thought I'd condemned my soul and your own. I am sorry I ever uttered that motto and I am relieved to hear you say such, Saito, even if I don't think you are quite so thrilled at present. Was it very hard?"

"Painful, yes. I tried to kill myself before I came to terms with it."

"Hm." He threw some more food in and several schools came and munched, their scales flashing in the sunny day. "I think she is smiling."

"Who?"

"Teruhime."

Is this what Himura did to people? Is this why Aoshi had changed? Why Soujiro and Enishi had forsaken revenge? He made them see the stark truth and realize their errors? He put his cigarette out beside the last one on the steps. He glanced briefly at the pile of four cigarettes before turning his attention back to the doorway.

The wooden gate stood as imposing as it had for the last hour. He pulled out his pocket watch, one he'd brought on the way other here, and flipped the silver protector open. 9: 45 ticked pass and the small hand moved over to the six. He put it back, wondering where the hell everyone of this forsaken dojo was. How could it be that no one was here?

"Kenji, wait up," an annoyed voice grumbled. "Stop running, jeez. I can never keep up with you."

"You're too slow," came the boy's aggravated voice.

"Well, excuse me if I don't—." The male baritone trailed off as the boy, hardly eighteen, stood in the gateway staring at him.

"Move your ass, Shinya!"

"Hold up, there is a stranger here."

Kenji's head peeked beyond the gate and he came inside, shutting the door. His hair was as red as Himura's own had been back then, not the dull almost orange sheen it had turned in the last few years. His eyes were blue instead of violet, but they gleamed with aggression just as the young Battousai's had. There had been nobility about the Battousai that belonged only to those fighting for ideals, but not this boy. He was merely an angry, frustrated youth, he did not fight for loved ones or beliefs, he fought merely for himself and whims.

"Who are you?"

"I'm an old acquaintance of your father's. Will he be arriving shortly?"

"He's still in the marketplace," the other answered, brown hair shielding his left eye from view, but his perfectly visible brown eye shone with friendliness.

"I'll wait."

"Who are you," arrogant brat number one asked.

"Humph."

"I asked a question, old man," Kenji demanded.

"You've no respect for elders and wisdom, do you?"

"Well, I was told never to trust strangers," he said, visibly deflating at the lack of frustration in the other's voice. "But a simple name would surmise."

"Goro."

"Goro?"

"Are you deaf?"

Kenji glared, crossing his arms over his chest. "Adults," he mumbled going to the shoji and huffily stepping inside.

Shinya smiled stiffly, "Kenji-san is still a child, Goro-san, forgive any rudeness on his part, he's got no tact and understanding of such things. I think he got it from Kaoru-san, heaven knows Kenshin-san didn't give it to him…"

"The willful, undisciplined brat is forgiven for now. He must learn to be better mannered. I will wait for him here."

"Would you like tea?"

"No."

"They shouldn't be long."

"Humph." When the man spoke it was smoothly, almost arrogant, but with a hint of assertive authority which demanded listening. It wasn't like Kenji's curt plea for attention or his way, but a strange easiness with himself and with others that made him so strange. It was as if he knew your motives for living and therefore needed no questions that would frustrate, such as Kenji who rarely ever understood people's actions. It made sense that he knew Kenshin, he was oddly alike him in a way, just not as friendly and familiar. Did he share similar values to Kenshin?

"Wait," the soft, clipped tone of one Aoshi Shinomori said in the doorway. "One of our enemies is here."

"I know, Aoshi-san," Kenshin said without preamble. "It's Saito. I was expecting him sooner actually."

"What, that ass is here? I hate Saito, we have an old score to finish, he and I, where is he Aoshi?"

"Through the door, moron," he snapped, rising from his spot on the steps as one of them opened the door and the group came in. Kenshin was starting to appear his age. His hair wasn't so fine, his face was getting wrinkles, his step a tad slower. His eyes still beamed with their old familiarity though, eyes as dark as the night, yet as bright as the stars.

"Saito."

"Battousai," without further ado he drew his katana and stepped into Gatotsu form. "Take your sakabato from the boy."

"No."

"I won't go easy on you because you lack a weapon."

"I don't want to fight you, that I—." He didn't finish his thought as he came flying at him. Himura dodged out of the way.

"Why are we fighting?"

"Funny that you don't know," he lunged and Himura, stepping back, collided with one of the support pillars of the dojo. He ducked as his sword went sailing over where Himura's head had been. His blade nicked the wood, but left it intact.

"Stop it, Saito," Sanosuke hissed, "or I'll make you stop. Come on, he doesn't even have a weapon."

"Sanosuke-san is right," Aoshi agreed, "It's dishonorable to attack an opponent who is defenseless."

He ignored them, advancing on Himura. Kenshin ducked his blade, but his leg hit him squarely beneath the chin. Kenshin fell onto his back in the grass near the dojo doors. He smirked, moving over the path.

"Stop!" Sanosuke came running at him, fist flung back as he prepared to punch him. Laughing he swept Sanosuke off his feet with his sheath and the other collapsed onto his stomach just to the left of Himura.

Sanosuke got back to his feet as Himura sat up, giving an "oro."

"Stay out of this, Zanza," he put his sheath back at his waist as Sano, brown eyes narrowed, came running again. He was rebuked once more, this time with a hilt to the back of his head.

"That hurt," Sano mumbled, rubbing his head.

"Stop this Saito," Kenshin said, rising as he brushed the grass off of himself, looking unfazed. It took a lot more than one good hit to take Kenshin down.

Sano tried to attack him from behind, stupidly thinking he wasn't paying attention. He hit him straight in the face, sending him sprawling on his back. Blood spurted from his nose, running down his cheeks and lips. He spat the blood from his mouth, putting a hand to his nose to stop the bleeding.

"Don't hurt Sanosuke further, you're fight is with me, yes?"

"If he stays out of it I will let him be."

"Sano, stop it, alright? I appreciate your effort, but Saito won't budge."

"Kenshin…"

"Hm…" He smiled that serene smile that belonged only to him at Sanosuke. "Saito."

"Battousai."

"I thought we were done with this."

"Not quite correct, but you'll see why I'm doing this shortly."

He dropped into Gatotsu, left knee bent, his right one protesting at the strain. He lunged vivaciously, a growl deep in his throat emerging. Himura dodged and jumped away from him, picking up the laundry basket nearby and holding it as a shield. He stalked after him, cutting the basket in half and watching the clothes spill out. He bite back a laugh, doing his best to remain impassive as one of Kaoru's kimono landed on Himura's hair. Himura made a face and gave a whiny, "oro."

Himura threw the clothing at him as he lunged again. Slashing the kimono in half he glared Himura down. Kenshin was grasping a little, one hand clutching his right knee as if it pained him, but his facial expression and eyes remained always the warrior's countenance. He raised his katana when a shout, clear and hoarse came from his left, "No!"

Kenji, a shinai in trembling hands, came sprinting over and wheeled around to face him, feet quickly planting in defensive style. His red hair hung loose, like a blood red flame around his thin shaking shoulders. He looked like he'd been sleeping or bathing just before he'd come out here. His kimono was slipping off one tanned shoulder and the juban and kimono collar hung loosely, about to slip off any second. He hadn't bothered with sandals.

"He's my Otosan, I won't let you hurt him," his eyes, two twins of iridescent blue, hardened like iron under fire.

"Oh? You're going to stop me, brat?"

"Yes."

"With that shinai against my sword?"

"If I have too," his hands, white knuckled, tightened around the pearly handle.

"Kenji, don't get involved," Himura said, "Saito, he's just my son, he's just a child."

"Let's see what you have brat, are you strong enough to protect your loved one's!" He roared as he sprang, his sword slicing through the air and the pliable wood of the shinai. He halted his sword just above Kenji's shoulder, the wind fluttering the fabric of his kimono, and after a moment, where a wide eyed Kenji opened his mouth wider in shock, withdrew. He sheathed his katana and stepped away from Kenji as he collapsed to his knees.

"I lost."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"A simple explanation? You used a shinai against a katana, moron, no swordsman can beat anyone with that odds. You'd have done better to dodge my attack and come at me with the shinai. Then hope for a lucky hit. Of course, you did hold your ground, remarkably brave at least. I didn't go light on you, just so you know, I don't on anyone, kid or not."

"But…"

"But nothing, stupid," Kenji raised his befuddled face to him, eyes wondering. "I've tons of experience over you, that proved by how you didn't think creatively about the fight. You stood your ground, yes, but that wouldn't have saved your Otosan or anyone else. I would have cut you down and then him."

"I don't understand."

"You're young, you will eventually."

"I'm confused too," Sano whined on the sidelines.

"Well, some boys never mature."

"What! Piss off, Saito! I'm just confused you ended the fight."

"Humph."

"Why didn't you interfere, Aoshi? You've got swords, you could have fought in Kenji-kun and Himura-san's place," Shinya asked, looking perplexed.

"If Saito had been serious I would have," Aoshi said simply.

"What? He looked damn serious to me," Sanosuke snapped, glaring at Aoshi's passive face.

"I get what this was about now," Kenji said softly, rising from his spot. "You wanted me to understand Kamiya-Kasshin better."

"You forsook your pride to save your loved one's, Kenji, that is the true essence of Kamiya-Kasshin by giving everything to protect others." Himura said. "You know Saito this one wasn't aware of your intentions at first, but you gave yourself away at the end."

"Humph."

"Why? Kenji is not your concern. Was it done because of Tsutomu-chan?"

"Not entirely," he turned, grabbing a cigarette from his pack and lighting it. The smoke blew away in the wind, drifting to unknown parts of Tokyo and beyond. He stared down the white stick with the gray stretch of ash and the bright end.

"So enigmatic," Kaoru said as Sano shook his head. Himura and Kenji picked up the two splintered ends of the shinai behind him. Aoshi was impassive as Misao, clinging to his arm, looked ready to burst with contained energy.

"Oh just spill it, you dirty cop!"

"Misao!" Kaoru chided, looking displeased, but her small grin was noticeable.

"Well, let's just say this," he took a long drag, prolonging the moment just to frustrate them. "I gave it up, now good riddance for the rest of our lives." Without further words he walked straight out the doors, stepping smoothly over the pavement as he traversed the road.

"What the hell?"

"Oh, Sano, believe me I'm as stumped as you," Shinya said.

"He gave it up," Kenji mumbled, "What's that mean?"

"Good for him," Aoshi said in a surprisingly affable voice.

"I'm glad too," Himura said, "It's about time Saito shoved his pride away and did what's right."

"I don't get it. What did he give up?"

"Aku Soku Zan," Himura said, smiling.


	64. Chapter 64: Tokyo, 1893 and 1894, Part 1

Sorry for the long wait, college and work have kept me preoccupied. I hope you all enjoy. R&R. Poor Katamori and Yukiko.

* * *

Katamori Matsudaira, former Daimyo of Aizu, and High Priest of the Nikko Tosho-gu temple the last few years, was dead. Katamori, who'd been so friendly and understanding, was dead. It didn't make sense. Everyone was saying it was pneumonia, but the last time he'd seen Katamori he'd been quite alive. He'd talked and joked, smiling a lot. How could he be dead? The Shinsengumi, Teruhime, and now Katamori. How many people would die before him?

Tokio was standing beside him, looking sober in her dark dress and sorrowful expression. Tsutomu was quiet, but every time he caught his eldest's eyes he looked on the verge of crying. Tsuyoshi for his part spoke the most, greeting the somber guests when Tokio became too choked up to. He was acting very aloof, his thought was that the runt was trying to appear strong, that he was fine…what bull crap.

Tsuyoshi had been closer than Tsutomu to Katamori, in fact the boy had spent about half his life at the Nikko Tosho-gu temple listening to Katamori talk about anything and everything. He had even been giving him calligraphy lessons to perfect his good handwriting and Katamori had once joked, "One son a solider, the other a scholar. Isn't that wonderful, Fujita-kun, the best of both worlds."

In fact as they'd sat one evening on the temple steps just before he was planning on leaving, Katamori had expressed some regret about his own children. "I wish I'd had just as good children as yours. Kataharu was never interested in hard work, he preferred the easy path, a life provided by his inheritance. When the Daimyo position was abolished he instead took a life of ease by joining the government. Never to work, but to be given. Nobunori was excellent at his studies, he was the son of Tokugawa Nariaki actually, surprising no…but all he ever wanted was to live a humble life. He didn't care for the Daimyo and gave it to Kataharu not long after receiving it. I think part of the reason he went to France for so long was to avoid me…"

"You must remember, Katamori-sama, they're just people with problems of their own they need to come to terms with. Stop looking at them with all their faults, all the ways they've failed to live up to your expectations, and instead look at them for who they are. You'll be surprised to find their probably better people than they would have been had they followed the path you'd lain out."

"Fujita-kun," Katamori smiled then, "you're right. I love them and that's why I worry about their happiness."

"Also don't be so arrogant as to think everything they do revolves around you." They had both laughed at that.

He thought Katamori's smile had never been more radiant than that day. Or was it merely the memory embellished in his thoughts after Katamori's passing? It didn't really matter because he knew one thing wasn't a lie, Katamori had been happy that instant he'd smiled.

Sitting outside, watching the dreary clouds gather, he wondered once more on Katamori. He heard the shoji open behind him. Turning he was expecting Tokio, but it was Tsuyoshi who came outside.

"Otosan," Tsuyoshi said almost meekly, though he was rarely meek around him. He gestured for him to take a seat and waited to speak until he was comfortable.

"Long day," he said simply, rubbing his aging knee.

"Does your knee pain you, Otosan? I've noticed it seems to hurt you more each year. My friend Tamaki-san, his father is a doctor…he could make you some—."

Tsuyoshi's soft voice quieted as he said, "No need for that."

Silence came between them. For some reason he found himself nervous just a tad, even though he was with his son. He'd always gotten along with Tsuyoshi better than his elder brother, Tsutomu's frank rebelling teenager years had mostly passed by now and he supposed they'd been getting along a little better, but Tsuyoshi's calm, mature nature had always suited him and made him slightly proud.

"Is it true, what Nagakura-san said back there? Did you really fight the Battousai," Tsuyoshi asked as he sat down.

"Nagakura has a big mouth, he never quite learned how to keep it shut. I fought the Battousai on several occasions, none of which I'd care to discuss now or any other time, am I clear?"

Tsuyoshi was silent, looking up at the dark clouds. "I can't understand," he said, frowning, "I can't even begin to understand all of that time. Ka…Katamori-sama, he never spoke about it. Sometimes…I'd hear him mutter something under his breath, you know just a small thing like, "reminds of the Bakumatsu," or, "Katsura would be disappointed." I never understood, all I ever understood was his face grew so dark…he was always smiling otherwise… Did Katamori….Did he hate the Meiji?"

He sighed, it was hard to explain to a son who'd known so little of life a world that had come before. "Do you remember that time Tatsuo fell out of the tree at Numazawa's house?"

"Yes, Kachiro and Kuni went to the doctor and he said he hadn't broken anything. They were very relieved."

"Do you remember your mother's reaction at the news?"

Tsuyoshi's frown deepened as his brows knitted together. "She was very sad," he looked downcast, the exact mannerism Tokio explored when filled with sorrow, much as she'd done at Tatsuo's fall. "She looked so…hurt. I felt bad, I couldn't ease her grief."

"No one can ease anyone's grief," he stated. "Grief is only curable through internal struggle. Of course, helping to smooth over the grief with happiness and love…that is true strength. Now I'm off topic. Katamori and the Meiji and Tokio and the Numazawa, what was the similarities between the two cases?"

Tsuyoshi was silent, apparently being as slow as Tsutomu today. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, watching the small glow illuminate the tip of his nose in the growing darkness. Some light from inside flittered through and shone on the ground, casting eerie shadows over them.

"I," he paused, becoming uncertain once more.

"Keep going."

"I think…um…the only similarity I saw was that both Katamori and Tokio are good people."

He glared at the dark ball of hair that was his son's head before smacking him. Tsuyoshi, scowled and fell silent.

"Think harder, moron. Use your common sense."

Tsuyoshi crossed his arms and his face sobered, eyes staring sightlessly as he thought. Looking at him right now he appeared a lot older than a fifteen year old. Funny how the time passed and both his brats had grown up before his very eyes. Soon they'd had wives and children…

"Do you need a hint?"

"No, give me a moment."

"I'm going back inside if this is going to continue. It's hellish cold out, even I don't like it."

"You never complained about the cold before."

"Don't start, once you get old the cold is more bothersome." He stood, annoyingly hearing the crack of his bones.

"Otosan, wait."

"I'm going in, idiot, you stay out here all night."

"Wait. I see it now. You're trying to tell me there are always two sides to every thing, right? Mother was sad where Kachiro-san and Kuni-san were glad because she wished she could be there for him. With Katamori-sama he was upset at the Meiji for the Bakumatsu, but the Meiji were happy about it, right?"

"Sort of. Now when most of those people at the funeral think of Katamori they are sad, some indifferent, some are even happy that he's gone. Every side has more dimensions than we can possibly even think up. When it comes to you, you displayed indifference towards his death. Tokio remained quiet over Tatsuo because he was in good hands, Katamori remained angry at the government because of several corrupt politicians and former Meiji supporters. So why, Tsuyoshi, did you play indifferent when you feel anything but? What was your reasons?"

"I…I thought…" He hiccuped then, tears creeping to the corner of normally dry eyes. "I thought if I was strong it wouldn't hurt everyone so much."

"When I said true strength is putting on a smile around those who are sad or pained, I did not mean to do such when you yourself feel grief. Spill your grief and soon it will turn to dust. Cry, Tsuyoshi, it is sometimes good."

"Oto…" a hiccup stifled his next words as he rubbed at his face, a strangled sound escaping his lips as he took a breath. "Otosan, I do miss him. I do."

"I know," even he missed Katamori. Perhaps later he'd lay in his futon and wonder why he was the only one unable to cry over Katamori when it was what he wanted most. He wanted to feel human after so many years of evading it in Aku Soku Zan.

"Otosan," and Tsuyoshi hugged him for the last time of his memory. He put one arm on his shoulder, feeling his warmth through his kimono and wet tears on his bare skin near the collar of his juban. It felt good to be there for him. It was nice. In the gloom, where no one could see, he smiled for the first time since Katamori's death.

* * *

Saito crossed his arms, watching the fool as he approached. "Am I late?"

"Ten minutes, Kawaguchi-san."

"Sorry. You know you can call me Junichiro…"

"Kawaguchi-san, I'm leaving, don't burn the museum down."

"Come on, we've been working together for how many years? I haven't done anything like that, jeez, and stop calling me Kawaguchi-san, that's my father."

"Humph," he pulled out a cigarette with one gloved hand.

"Oh, how is Tokio-san?"

"She's fine."

"How old is Tsutomu now? Gotta be almost old enough to move out…"

"He turned eighteen last February."

"No shit!"

He started walking, not bothering to stay and continue this obnoxious talk with Kawaguchi. It was an almost perfect August day, the sky was cloudy, but there was little wind and it was still warm enough not to need more layers. Tokio was in the living room when he arrived home. She was talking with Hiroaki's wife. Hiroaki was staring down at his tea.

"Tokio," he said simply as he settled beside her. The look she bestowed him lacked her typical warmth, her eyes glazed with sorrow. What the hell had happened? Glancing back at both Yamaguichi he was surprised to find them both sad eyed as well. What was wrong?

"How was work?"

"Guarding a boring museum isn't interesting," he stated as he had every day she'd asked for the last four years he'd worked there. "Where's Tsutomu? Is he hanging out with Yukiko?"

A dreadful silence at this. What was wrong with everyone? Hiroaki looked pale, his face matching his hair. His wife didn't look much better, clearly she was trying her best to beat back tears.

"Yukiko," Hiroaki said stiffly, before pursing his lips and lowering his head.

"What about Yukiko?"

"She's dead." It was one thing for a man like Katamori who'd lived a good, long life to pass away, but for a girl only turned twenty five it seemed horribly shameful.

"When?"

"This morning."

"From?"

"Kami sake, Saito, it's not a bloody police report! It's my daughter!" Hiroaki's wife sputtered, her shoulders shaking as Hiroaki took her in his arms. "Yukiko…Yukiko."

He was silent until they left. Tokio sat down after escorting them out. She said nothing for a time, but it was only a matter of moments before her fury would be unleashed. He sipped his tea, feeling the scathing hot drink burn his tongue as he gulped. Tokio fury came much the same way.

"Hajime, that was horrible of you. Show some compassion."

"Some compassion? I understand their child died, Tokio, but I wasn't heartless. I was only asking how."

"That's your problem, koishii, you don't see that it's sensitive to them. You did it unintentionally."

"Tell me then, Tokio, what should I have said?"

"Sometimes you are so smart," she threw her hands up, looking frustrated, "other times it is like you don't have a brain."

He didn't respond, sipping his tea.

"Yukiko is dead, Hajime."

"She'll be missed," he answered.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"I'm leaving," she stood, giving him a scowl as she walked out of the room.

* * *

"Kachiro-san," she said, sighing. Tatsuo, now eight years old, walked ahead with Kuni on their way back from the market.

"Something troubling you?"

"Goro."

"He can be troubling."

"I just don't know what to do. Did you hear about Yukiko?"

His face flittered with a brief flicker of sadness as he nodded, saying, "Yes, Morinosuke-san mentioned it."

"He's being so…frustrating. Ever since Katamori died in '93 he's been…well…impossible."

"Impossible? You mean he's worse than usual?"

She laughed as Kachiro chuckled. "It's true though. I've never seen him grieve before, Kachiro. When we met he had hardly any family and friends left and few of them have died. Katamori, he was a friend to Goro…but he was so much more than that though. He was the last living tie Goro had to the Bakumatsu. Nagakura rarely visits, expect for special occasions. He isn't on friendly terms with the Battousai and Kai I heard passed away a few years ago."

"Goro is tough, Tokio, he'll be fine. A few more weeks and he'll be himself again."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," her look said she didn't believe him though. Several months and he still seemed so affected. Had he been so desolate and aloof after the Shinsengumi fell?

* * *

"Hideo-san?"

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, I'm always all ears for you, Tokio-chan."

"Oh, Hideo-san, don't call me that childish name. It's about Goro."

"I see."

"He's having trouble coping with Katamori-san's sudden passing."

"Right."

"Also, maybe partly because of that, he's treating Yukiko's death with insignificance."

"Katamori and he were very close, there is no denying that. Katamori was very influential within the Shinsengumi, to them back then he was a key founder and funded them, more than that he was a comrade in helping enforce Aku Soku Zan, even though it was a little indirectly. Saito had strong ties to Aizu as well, he fought many times beside Aizu troops. The Shinsengumi broke apart for a while, Hijikata went to Hokkaido and Saito and some men stayed behind to defend Aizu. It's no surprise if you know your history all the ties he had to Katamori and Aizu. Yukiko's passing hasn't affected him nearly so much because he wasn't around her for fifty some years as he was with Katamori, they fought and struggled together, it is therefore understandable that Katamori's death has more impact. I'm sure he feels horrible about her untimely passing and feels for his brother, but you understand how he sees it, yes?"

"But—."

"You view both their deaths equally, Tokio. You saw Yukiko countless times when your children played with her, saw her at school in your class, spoke to her regularly as she grew older and graduated. She told me once she wanted to be a teacher because of you. She at least achieved that for a short time. I'm sure at the very least she was proud of that achievement. Katamori you saw at dinner regularly, you visited him at the temple, and saw him every time you picked Tsuyoshi up. You knew them both well and therefore can be affected deeply by both. Saito only saw Yukiko at family events and sometimes around the house when he wasn't working. He wasn't there most of the time when she was around; he was working."

"Hideo-san…"

"Can you see his point of view?"

"I think so."

"Good. Sorry for the long speech, cousin."

"It's fine, I guess I just needed it. I was frustrated and angry that he felt so little for her passing but so much for Katamori-san's."

"I'm glad I could help a little."

"You helped more than Kachiro-san anyway. Hideo-san," her gaze said she meant to say something more, but she shook her head and instead said, "I'll see you Thursday."

* * *

"More sake, Hiroshi-san?" He asked, holding up the half empty sake jar. Hiroshi nodded his head, smiling stiffly. Another long night with him drinking as they talked about the pass.

"Do you remember that time where Katamori personally reprimanded Todo. He was so furious."

"I remember some gossip about it. What was it all about, I never knew."

"Oh, Todo was being too…how should I put it…frivolous with his…male friends prior after some drinking and to make manners worse Katamori wasn't too pleased when Todo unknowingly hit on him."

"Todo always was an idiot."

"My sentiments exactly, Hiroshi."

"I recall a time when Okita was getting hassled by other members over a lady friend?" Hiroshi frowned, trying to imagine the cheery first captain with a lady friend. "I didn't believe it at the time. How much truth was there in that rumor?"

"Only a little. Apparently, from what Okita told me, take this with a grain of salt as Okita wasn't known to be serious too often, he saved the young lady from some Shishi. She was very gratefully, Okita for his part either ignored her advances or wasn't aware of them until gossip got around."

"Ah, those were crazy times."

"Crazy indeed," he picked up his oolong tea, somehow Hiroshi always had the best tea, and drank.

"Good times too."

"Um."

"That isn't to say these times aren't good too, just different."

"Agreed."

Both were silent a long time.

"Katamori was a good man."

"Yes."

"To Katamori," Hiroshi lifted his glass.

He knocked his cup against Hiroshi's and drank.

"Hiroshi."

"What?"

"Do you ever wish those times back?"

A long silence as Hiroshi took a swig of his sake. "No," Hiroshi said with a hard look on his face, "because if I did Tsutomu, Tsuyoshi, and Tatuo would no longer be here, you and Tokio wouldn't have met, and I'd still be a crappy general." Hiroshi had given up his military career and settled into a nice place in Tokyo.

"Don't you miss it?"

"That's not how your looking. You miss the camaraderie, the friendship, the excitement of the fighting, all that, but I envy you what you have right now. A damn decent wife, halfway good boys, a house full of laugher to come home to at night. Hell all I got since the Bakumatsu is this shitty place and a somewhat good reputation. I'd trade all that in a heartbeat for your happiness. I'd trade all those nights plowing over maps and strategic plans with Katamori and others, all those battles, all that bloodshed, all the laughs as we got drunk on sake, and moans of death during the Bakumatsu. All that means so little to me in comparison."

"Hiroshi…"

"You're lucky you have a life, I never even tried to get one. I was too busy missing the past. Katamori had the right idea, three wives and plenty of brats."

"You've had to much sake if you think three wives and more brats than you have fingers is an appropriate lifestyle."

"He didn't have that many kids," Hiroshi laughed.

"You can still get married and have kids."

"I'm thinking about it. Wish I could find the right woman though, they are so hard to come by in this era."

"Oh, please, you always go after the same type of lady, Hiroshi, easy and ditzy."

"Do not. Maeko-san wasn't and neither was Kana-san and Konami-san."

"Maeko chose someone else over you remember and Kana-san…well…her tastes weren't for men. How you found her I don't want to know. Konami-san was decent, why did you break things off with her?"

"Konami-san, she…um…liked older men."

"And?"

"I found her with some sixty year old pervert."

"Wasn't she only thirty when you were together?"

"Exactly."

"And you call those three normal."

"They were relatively normal at first glance."

"Right. I should be heading home soon."

* * *

Crawling under the warm covers eased all the tension from his body. He was just starting to drift off when he felt Tokio's arms go around his waist.

"Koishii," her soft voice whispered in the dark.

"What Tokio?"

"I'm sorry."

He stiffened, hearing her say those two words was unnerving. Tokio rarely ever did anything which needed to be forgiven for, at least in his eyes, but more then that she always tried constantly to make him happy which made saying sorry to him odd.

"What are you possibly sorry for?" He asked as he rolled over to face her. He clasped her warm hands in his cold one's, rubbing one finger across the smooth skin on the back of her hand.

"I…I know Katamori-san's death has affected you, Hajime, and you're having a hard time with your grief. I've haven't helped, I just keep pressuring you about Yukiko and I'm sorry."

"I don't understand what you're saying sorry for."

"I was talking to Hideo-san."

"Great," he mumbled with sarcasm. Hideo was a smart man, but he was too nosy for his tastes.

"He made me see just how much Katamori's death has hurt you. I realize you're not marginalizing Yukiko's death, you're just not as touched by her passing because you weren't as close to her. I wouldn't be as affected if Kawaguchi-san died at the same time as oh…say Kuni-san."

"I suppose. You're lucky you don't have to work with that moronic Kawaguchi-san."

"He seemed nice enough, you're just a grouch."

"Humph. He's dumber than Chou."

"Are we alright, koishii?"

"Whoever said there was anything wrong?" He asked, smiling.

She smiled back, "You should smile more."

He rolled his eyes, "its because you always say I should smile more that I do the opposite, Tokio."


	65. Chapter 65: Tokyo, 1899, Part 1

So Hiroshi, who I included in this chapter, died in 1898. I was a bite miffed when I realized this as I was doing research for the next chapter. I knew he died around this time period but I hadn't rechecked my info on people since I started writing again so I was somewhat annoyed. This meant thankfully only a minor rewriting of this chapter. I've changed the person Tokio and Saito visit from Hiroshi to Kachiro which seems reasonable to me. I've also added a flashback including Hiroshi's death and Morinosuke and Saito's drinking The story remains unchanged but for those parts if people aren't interested in rereading everything.

* * *

"I still can't believe it," Morinosuke declared as he downed his sake. Saito, sitting perfectly in seiza beside the moron, scowled into his own cup.

"All people die at some point."

"But Hiroshi-sama!" He poured another cup, his unsteady hands trembling as he did so.

"It is fruitless to deny the inevitable. We must accept death as a necessity for life to thrive."

"But, Saito…"

"I've grown accustomed to death and not just because of my time in the Shinsengumi; even the Meiji Era can't prevent death. I've grown quite numb to the loss of important people in my life."

"I won't ever forget Hiroshi-sama," Morinosuke burst into the intermit crying he'd been doing all night. Saito would have usually ridiculed him and gotten fed up with such antics on a normal night of drinking, but tonight he sat with Morinosuke and for every tear the man let out Saito felt his own sadness slowly ebbing away.

"Don't ever forget about Hiroshi-san and he will never truly die."

* * *

"How did the mediation go?" Tsutomu asked Kenjiro eagerly as the man sat down. Tokio gave him a scolding looking for bothering Kenjiro about the topic before the man had even been properly greeted and offered tea.

"I can see why you'd be eager, Tsutomu-chan," Kenjiro smiled at the love-struck boy. "I spent some time discussing everyday things before broaching the sensitive topic. Her father inquired after my time spent aboard and said Midori-san is very interested in education too. He told me a tale about when she was younger, how when asked if she'd prefer fortune or education, she answered that she'd like to receive an education. That speaks far more of Midori-san than anything else and Tokio-san's approval of the girl has esteemed her to me as well."

Kenjiro didn't bother looking at her husband as he sipped his tea. Tsutomu, far too impatient for his own good, sat drumming his fingers against his leg and looking annoying. Tokio glanced over at Midori, who though far more taciturn then Tsutomu, was awaiting the verdict with as much consternation as him.

"Well?"

"I was getting there, Tsutomu-chan." Her eldest hated being called -chan and Kenjiro for whatever reason insisted on calling him this. He was the only person in her memory that Kenjiro ever addressed as -chan since she'd known him.

"Don't be so impatient, it's your worst attribute," Saito snapped in vexation as he set his teacup down with more force than was necessary.

She knew Tsutomu getting married, especially to Midori whom he viewed as unfit for the occupancy, was trying on his nerves lately. Tsutomu spent nearly every day in panic over the mediations and Midori, having only moved in four days ago, was adding to the feeling of tension in the house. Tsuyoshi wasn't helping manners either, constantly making jibes at Tsutomu and Midori throughout the day.

"The Nishino family has refused the offer."

"What?" Tsutomu's crestfallen face was heartbreaking to Tokio's maternal instincts. She hated seeing any of her sons' suffer and it was even worse given the fact she knew the feeling of dejection he was now experiencing (no doubt for the first time) from when Saito had married Yaso.

"Why?" Saito asked this with his usual even tones because next to Kenjiro he was likely the only other calm person occupying the room.

"They didn't give specifics, but I would wager they have multiple reasons against such a union. Your rank is insignificant compared to theirs, your wealth deplorable at best, and you've connections to Aizu."

"You make it sound like we are the worst possible family in. Trust me I can think of at least one family that is worse." Tokio didn't doubt Saito was either making a reference to Morinosuke, Kenshin, or Sanosuke.

"But I love Midori-san."

"Nishino-san does consider Midori-san's happiness, or so he said, but he also must consider the family's honor when deciding about marriage."

"I'm going for a walk," Tsutomu went to the shoji and Tsuyoshi, silent during the whole awkward exchange stood and followed him outside.

"Thank you, Kenjiro-san for getting involved in this mediation. Tsutomu-san knows you tried to advocate for him and I know he appreciates it. He just…"

"I understand, Tokio-san. Katamori-sama once told me the Meiji Era had brought few good things but one was that arranged marriages were falling out of fashion, even among the elite."

Tokio bowed to Kenjiro out of both gratitude and respect. He smiled somberly before rising to leave, saying with some weariness that he had a long day ahead of him teaching the new generations.

"He reminds me of Katamori-sama at times," Saito remarked as she went to pick up his lacquer tray.

"Well he did quote Katamori-san." He gave her that look that said her comment was too Tsutomu or Morinosuke. She only smiled in response, figuring teasing him a little was better than sitting in the unconformable silence.

"I'm going to finish my coursework for Ume-san," Midori said as she finally left the room.

"The poor dear," she mumbled softly when Midori was out of earshot.

"She'll learn something from this. Life isn't handed over even to the rich."

"Oh, Hajime, don't be cruel. Her hopes have been dashed," Tokio glared at him, "we should be supportive and try to mediate with her family again."

"What is the point of continued mediation when her family already made their stance clear."

"They could change their minds."

"Continuing is more prone to getting their ire I would think."

"You've always been a sadistic pessimist."

"What does my sadistic side have to do with anything?"

"You getting pleasure from seeing Midori-san's discomfort."

"I am not," he crossed his arms.

"You won't admit it, Hajime, but a part of you is. You dislike her so seeing her suffer pleases you."

"That's an untrue statement, Tokio."

"Is it?" She frowned at him as he smirked wolfishly. "You don't understand either what she's going through. I never refused you and I had no family to do that either. Had they survived beyond the war my father probably would have refused you. I know what Midori-san and Tsu-chan are going through."

"Tokio," he looked at the shoji leading into Midori's room with some annoyance.

She knew from his expression that he was trying not to remember the past which her words had brought to the forefront; she'd seen that look enough times whenever the Boshin War or even some odd hint of the Bakumatsu was brought up. That time when he'd been married to Yaso had been a difficult period for both of them for multiple reasons, some of which still occasionally haunted them to this very day.

"I'll try to better understand that girl, but I'm not promising much," he finally conceded.

"I'm sure once you spend more time with her you'll come to appreciate her good qualities as well."

"Humph."

"Now who else could mediate to her family for us?"

"Ask Hideo-san."

"Good idea."

* * *

Saito frowned as he read the magazine. The _Kyu Bakufu _magazine, written by some Bakumatsu figures, contained a biography of Kondo. It wasn't a terrible portrayal of the infamous leader of the Shinsengumi and it at least didn't overlook or express unbridled censure towards him like some publications did to Hijikata.

"Hajime?" Tokio appeared in the shoji. He flipped the magazine closed and resolved to finish the article later.

"What's the matter?"

"They refused again."

"I told you they would."

"I don't need you to be an asshole right now, koishii," he raised a brow at her word choice as she stomped over and grabbed his arm. "Get up and walk over to Kachiro's with me."

"Why are we going to Kachiro's?"

"He's going to mediate for us since Hideo-san failed."

He pulled his arm from his wife's clutches, "I am not going to be a part of this. Let it go."

"No," she gave him a pout which he averted his eyes from; experience had taught him that to stare too long at her pouting signaled his doom. Switching tactics she placed both hands on her hips and glaring at him proclaimed with the seriousness she could muster, "No futon time for a month if you don't come over to Hideo-san's."

"That's a bluff," he opened his magazine and began reading where he left off.

"Hajime!" He ignored her outburst as he focused on his task. Tokio wasn't going to get him so easily; he'd learned to out maneuver her manipulating ways years ago.

"Koishii?" The wavering of her voice indicated tears would soon follow, but he stuck resolutely to his reading.

"I'm pregnant!" He gave her a brief glanced to signify that he didn't believe her for an instant and went back to his magazine.

"Kami damn you, Hajime," she stormed out. He smirked as he watched her go over his reading material. He closed the magazine, found her waiting by the shoji outside, and smirked as he walked quietly beside her.

"I knew you come. Lack of futon time must have convinced you."

"I won't deny it," he was concerned, if not for futon time, about Tokio's emotional investment into this business of the marriage of Midori and Tsutomu. "Why do you care?"

"He's our son," she answered with some weariness. "He deserves all the happiness this world has to offer. I want him to be as well off as us when he reaches this age."

"Marrying Midori-san won't cement happiness in his life, Tokio," he grabbed a cigarette out since he knew he was going to need one.

"But it will ensure he experiences some."

"Tsutomu will only be happy if he works at it as we have. He should just go himself to the Nishino residence."

"That's not how it works. Our own marriage had Katamori, Sagawa Kanbei, and Hiroshi serve as our go betweens if you recall."

"As much as I disagree with most Western customs―."

"Smoking those cancer sticks aside I suppose."

"Cigarettes excluded, I can see the importance of him addressing her family directly. If he wants results he needs less impartial go-betweens."

"Kenjiro-san and Hideo-san want his happiness too. Why do you assume their failures came from lack of motivation?"

"Either Nishino-san is too barbaric to be reasoned with or Kenjiro-sama wasn't trying."

"As much as your respect of Kenjiro-sama baffles me I can't see him not trying to some extent."

"His sentiment could the same as mine?"

"What's that?"

"That Tsutomu is too immature to marry."

She stopped walking on the middle of the bridge receiving cautious glances from those who passed her by.

"What?"

"You didn't…"

"Tokio use sentences."

"Tell me you didn't!"

His frustration was close to boiling over due to the constant annoyances of late and his typically short temper, "I didn't what, woman?"

"You didn't convince Kenjiro-san that Tsu-chan was too young to marry or some other nonsense did you?"

He frowned, blowing smoke out and getting annoyed when it blew straight back into his face cause of the wind. He hadn't wanted Tokio to realize his hand in this. She was going to be upset, he could already see the irate emotions in her eyes and now her body started shaking in angry.

"Goro Fujita!" She glared as she marched past him, walking to the end of the bridge and waiting for him. He followed with impending sense of doom weight each step. His feet had never thumped so loudly upon a surface before. He threw his cigarette remain into the water and crossing his arms walked in complete, unbearable silence to Kachiro's house with a wife who was going to give him a good earful.

He was just through the shoji when Tokio, overcome by her anger, smacked her bare palm against his cheek. He had never been hit by a woman before.

"Hajime Saito, you insufferable asshole," she punched his chest. "How dare you interfere with Tsutomu's happiness!"

Kachiro, about to have a nice cup of sake as he read the Tokyo paper, stared in complete shock at the ballistic scene before him.

"You know your punches don't hurt, right?"

"What are you two doing?"

"I'm too upset to even explain," Tokio grabbed his sake and downed the contents. Then realizing how rude she'd been apologized with a bow and, finally regaining some semblance of calm, related the reason for the sudden outburst he'd witnessed.

"Goro-san, I know you have odd methods of handling some circumstances but to do what Tokio-san is suggesting…even for you…is hard to swallow."

"Tsutomu is not ready for marriage, to Midori-san or anyone else."

"Why do you think that?"

"He hasn't even finished school. Not only that he has no means of support for himself and his wife, I would not protest them staying temporally with us, but not to have some occupancy before marriage is moronic, something only Morinosuke would attempt. What if Midori-san should begat his damnable offspring while he has no finances? Thirdly…do you really want me to list the millions of reasons I have?"

"I can understand your concern at the lack of levity towards the arrangements, but to infer to such a degree?" Kachiro rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I don't think going to Kenjiro-san and trying to underhandedly ruin the meeting was the most honorable thing. So it's fine to just overlook those tenets of Bushido like respect, honesty, loyalty, and benevolence when the moment suits you?"

"I did no such thing. I did not lie to Kenjiro-san, I merely expressed my opinion and he agreed. As for loyalty what greater way to express it than looking out for a son's welfare? As for the other two I won't even dignify them with a response."

"If you had concerns why didn't you just say so?" He scowled at Kachiro's question.

"Hajime, don't brood. I'm the one who should be angry."

"I spoke of my worries and was either blatantly disregarded," he met his wife's eye pointedly. Tokio had completely ignored any qualms about the marriage since day one. "Or my opinion was considered invalid."

"That isn't true."

"I brought up the lack of financial stability two times with you after you first told me of this ridiculous scheme. You said it was a small certain and that since Midori was coming to stay with us anyway what harm could there be in marriage? Don't you remember, Tokio?"

She bowed her head, "I do remember that, but we're already supporting her by having her live with us. What's the problem?"

"The problem is Tsutomu's lack of maturity. At his age Eiji was working and doing well for himself. Tsutomu lacks discipline. He always has. Tsuyoshi would be better suited to marriage than him."

"I believe Goro-san has a point."

"I know you adore Midori-san, but the situation isn't right for your goals."

"But they love each other."

"If they do they can wait. We did."

"Hajime…"

"Fine."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"So why did you two come over?"

* * *

"I want to finish that article about Kondo before next year," he crossed his arms, glancing at his wife. Tatsuo was laughing as Tokio told him something funny as they stood in the Numazawa residence's garden. His youngest smiled as his brown eyes glowed with the warmth the Takagi were known for. His dark hair he wore short with little tuffs pressed neatly against his ears. His kimono was grey with a blue obi. He may have only been thirteen but he could see the boy was clearly Tokio's spitting image in facial features and personality. Of all their children Tatsuo was the most like Tokio; innocent benevolence wrapped around an older core of steel.

"Fujita-san?" He nodded his head in the direction of wife and child. Kuni came closer and spotted them. She rubbed her hands against her orange kimono.

"I sometimes wish you all would come over less," she confessed stiffly.

"Why do you say that?"

"He's a lot different than Kachiro and I. He…he knows that too. I think he wonders at times."

"We've never been too obvious about it. I know I haven't anyway. Tokio keeps a distance, even if she hates it, and besides the occasional visit and family events."

"He doesn't suspect that he's adopted, much less from you two, but he certainly wonders about the differences between Kachiro and me."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

She looked startled, eyes widened in her small face and hands fussing with her kimono. She was almost as fussy as Tokio about neatness; he imagined Takagi men liked that quality in their wives. "I don't know either. I guess I just wish we could really make him our own, but he'll never be completely ours."

"Then I suppose we understand each other," he lit a cigarette. Today was horrible. Why couldn't he just be left alone to read that damn magazine?

* * *

"Goro-san," Midori poured his tea, a task usually reversed for Tokio, and met his eye with some trepidation.

"What?"

"Um…" she glanced over at Tokio as if she would help her before focusing all her attention on her hands.

"Shyness irritates me."

"Is there nothing that doesn't?" Her snarky reply was followed by her lowering her head with shame mingled uncertainty.

"Speaking your mind doesn't annoy me; I only get annoyed when fools like Morinosuke speak up. Now if we are going to converse let's commence with annoying things. Otherwise I'm going to finish the damn magazine I started this morning and was rudely interrupted from," he didn't spare a look at Tokio, knowing she understood his frustration.

"Fujita-san," he let out a deep breath, meeting her eyes indifferently. "I…I don't want you to think I…" Tsutomu kept trying to catch her gaze with his worried one as Tsuyoshi, buried in some book, sat with an unconformable expression at the sudden silence.

"Are you going to continue?"

"I don't want you to think ill of me. I'm aware I came off rudely the first time we met, but to be honest you're probably the rudest man I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

"And?"

"And…I hate your rules. First off why must we eat soba every night? Soba gets disgusting after a while and why oolong tea all the time? Does no one get a say in what we have? Why is it that only you and Tokio are allowed sake? Also why can't we bother either of you after nine?"

"That last rule is mandatory."

"But why?"

"Don't even ask, Midori-san," Tsuyoshi, who had nearly witnessed his parents after nine once, shrieked.

"Do you know how babies are born?" The girl's eyes went as wide as saucers and then she blushed at the idea, he hoped she wasn't having mental images for he feared he'd never be able to face her again if she was. "Good. As for the others I like soba and oolong and occasionally Tokio disobeys and does something different."

"I intend to have Kenjiro-san over tomorrow and he doesn't like soba, Hajime koishii."

"So I should eat out?"

"You dislike Kenchinjiru so I would assume you should."

"That's without meat right?"

"Yes, Yoshi-san."

"I'd rather eat soba with Otosan. Can I eat out with you tomorrow?"

"If you must."

* * *

"So what's that?"

"_Kyu Bakufu _magazine."

"I see."

"Why'd you bring it with?"

"Tokio wouldn't give me any peace last night so I didn't have time to finish reading." Tsuyoshi visibly winced at the implication of what his parents had been doing last night and instead focused on his soba.

"I thought you don't really care for soba."

"And I thought you don't like magazines."

"This one has an article about Kondo."

"I actually wanted to talk to you," he slurped his noodles. Saito ate quietly for a few minutes as Tsuyoshi finished his soba and set it aside. "I already mentioned this to Okasan. I've been talking to Hideo-san and Kenjiro-san about it a lot lately…and Katamori-sama always inspired me because he was so learned…I want to go study aboard."

Saito, at the moment Tsuyoshi had dropped the last sentence, was in the middle of drinking. He set the cup down and met his middle son's unflinching eyes. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"I've talked extensively with Hideo-san and Kenjiro-san; both have been aboard to America. The outside world has so much to offer and though I love Japan and our people's customs I feel I could only grow more as a person by experiencing other cultures."

"Do you intend to study aboard as Tokio's cousins did?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"America?"

"I've been thinking about where for some time. America seems interesting but I find I'm more inclined to go to Britain or France. I guess the French officers in Hokkaido left some sort of impression. I know you named Tatsuo-san after them anyway."

"How much does Tokio know?"

"I've spoken to her a few times and she told me you'd understand…but I wasn't sure you would."

"I understand this better than I understand your brother's foolishness with Midori-san. I was once erringly young and looking for adventure when I joined the Shinsengumi. If this is really what you want you needn't have bothered to speak to me."

"I didn't want to leave anyone on bad terms."

"Good. That is how a man handles things. You don't ever do a half assed job like your brother, understood?"

"Yes, Otosan," he swore Tsuyoshi had never smiled at him with as much love as that day.

* * *

"You're really letting him go to France?"

"What is wrong with that?" Tokio, face bewildered, turned from the entrance to face Tsutomu, besides Tsuyoshi was already gone from sight.

"He can go off and mess around but I can't get married? What kind of crap is this?"

"Tsutomu, you aren't prepared to marry."

"And Tsuyoshi's prepared for France? I don't think they are even in the same league."

"You are right about that. Marriage takes far more commitment. Now sit down and finish your soba."

"No," Tsutomu, anger that all of his brother's dreams were coming true, ran from the house. He cursed as he ran through crowds of people and eventually made it to the harbor. He spotted Tsuyoshi almost instantly; he was standing off to the side, one hand holding his luggage as the other fiddled nervously with his pocket watch.

"Yoshi-san!" Tsuyoshi lifted his head and burst into a smile. He wasn't suspecting what came next. Tsutomu fist connected with his jaw and Tsuyoshi fell onto his back, staring in confusion at his brother. After a moment of crowd staring and Tsuyoshi's hurt face he offered him his hand. His brother reluctantly accepted, dusting off his bum once standing.

"What was that for? I know you've been grumpy lately, but that was―."

"Yoshi-kun," his voice broke before the tears started sliding down his cheek. "I can't believe all your dreams are coming true and I'm still going to be struck here once you're gone. Nothing's going right…Midori-san isn't allowed to marry me and I'm unable to do anything until I graduate…and now you're leaving me too."

"Tsu-kun," he wrapped an arm around his brother. "I'm sure everything will be fine. The Nishino will change their mind once you're successful and you know Midori-san will wait for you because she loves you. What do you have to worry about? You're the lucky one, silly, I'm the one still waiting for a cute girl to fall into my arms and I still don't even know what I really want to do… Don't cry, Tsu-kun, come on, this is embarrassing with all these people here…"

"Sorry, Yoshi."

"Don't worry about it. It's what brothers do best. Cheer up alright? Next time you see me you'll be the one with everything worked out, promise. Until then remember me every time Otosan calls you an idiot or when Okasan gives you that annoyed look, ok?"

"I wish you weren't leaving…I'm going to miss you, brother."

"I know, dumbass," he ruffled his hair in the way Tokio often did to all of them. "See ya."

"Don't stay away too long or I'll come and drag you back, idiot!" Tsuyoshi waved as he boarded the ship and Tsutomu, upset that his brother was leaving, waited at the dock until the ship was only a tiny speck among the blue water of the Sea of Japan.

* * *

Kyu Bakufu Magazine-Bakumatsu publication that contained a biography about Isami Kondo and ceased publication in 1901.

Kenchinjiru-Japanese Zen Buddhist (vegan cause of oblivious reasons) vegetable soup.


	66. Chapter 66: Tokyo, 1899, Part 2

"How did the mediation go?" Tsutomu asked Kenjiro eagerly as the man sat down. Tokio gave him a scolding looking for bothering Kenjiro about the topic before the man had even been properly greeted and offered tea.

"I can see why you'd be eager, Tsutomu-chan," Kenjiro smiled at the love-struck boy. "I spent some time discussing everyday things before broaching the sensitive topic. Her father inquired after my time spent aboard and said Midori-san is very interested in education too. He told me a tale about when she was younger, how when asked if she'd prefer fortune or education, she answered that she'd like to receive an education. That speaks far more of Midori-san than anything else and Tokio-san's approval of the girl has esteemed her to me as well."

Kenjiro didn't bother looking at her husband as he sipped his tea. Tsutomu, far too impatient for his own good, sat drumming his fingers against his leg and looking annoying. Tokio glanced over at Midori, who though far more taciturn then Tsutomu, was awaiting the verdict with as much consternation as him.

"Well?"

"I was getting there, Tsutomu-chan." Her eldest hated being called -chan and Kenjiro for whatever reason insisted on calling him this. He was the only person in her memory that Kenjiro ever addressed as -chan since she'd known him.

"Don't be so impatient, it's your worst attribute," Saito snapped in vexation as he set his teacup down with more force than was necessary.

She knew Tsutomu getting married, especially to Midori whom he viewed as unfit for the occupancy, was trying on his nerves lately. Tsutomu spent nearly every day in panic over the mediations and Midori, having only moved in four days ago, was adding to the feeling of tension in the house. Tsuyoshi wasn't helping manners either, constantly making jibes at Tsutomu and Midori throughout the day.

"The Nishino family has refused the offer."

"What?" Tsutomu's crestfallen face was heartbreaking to Tokio's maternal instincts. She hated seeing any of her sons' suffer and it was even worse given the fact she knew the feeling of dejection he was now experiencing (no doubt for the first time) from when Saito had married Yaso.

"Why?" Saito asked this with his usual even tones because next to Kenjiro he was likely the only other calm person occupying the room.

"They didn't give specifics, but I would wager they have multiple reasons against such a union. Your rank is insignificant compared to theirs, your wealth deplorable at best, and you've connections to Aizu."

"You make it sound like we are the worst possible family in. Trust me I can think of at least one family that is worse." Tokio didn't doubt Saito was either making a reference to Morinosuke, Kenshin, or Sanosuke.

"But I love Midori-san."

"Nishino-san does consider Midori-san's happiness, or so he said, but he also must consider the family's honor when deciding about marriage."

"I'm going for a walk," Tsutomu went to the shoji and Tsuyoshi, silent during the whole awkward exchange stood and followed him outside.

"Thank you, Kenjiro-san for getting involved in this mediation. Tsutomu-san knows you tried to advocate for him and I know he appreciates it. He just…"

"I understand, Tokio-san. Katamori-sama once told me the Meiji Era had brought few good things but one was that arranged marriages were falling out of fashion, even among the elite."

Tokio bowed to Kenjiro out of both gratitude and respect. He smiled somberly before rising to leave, saying with some weariness that he had a long day ahead of him teaching the new generations.

"He reminds me of Katamori-sama at times," Saito remarked as she went to pick up his lacquer tray.

"Well he did quote Katamori-san." He gave her that look that said her comment was too Tsutomu or Morinosuke. She only smiled in response, figuring teasing him a little was better than sitting in the unconformable silence.

"I'm going to finish my coursework for Ume-san," Midori said as she finally left the room.

"The poor dear," she mumbled softly when Midori was out of earshot.

"She'll learn something from this. Life isn't handed over even to the rich."

"Oh, Hajime, don't be cruel. Her hopes have been dashed," Tokio glared at him, "we should be supportive and try to mediate with her family again."

"What is the point of continued mediation when her family already made their stance clear."

"They could change their minds."

"Continuing is more prone to getting their ire I would think."

"You've always been a sadistic pessimist."

"What does my sadistic side have to do with anything?"

"You getting pleasure from seeing Midori-san's discomfort."

"I am not," he crossed his arms.

"You won't admit it, Hajime, but a part of you is. You dislike her so seeing her suffer pleases you."

"That's an untrue statement, Tokio."

"Is it?" She frowned at him as he smirked wolfishly. "You don't understand either what she's going through. I never refused you and I had no family to do that either. Had they survived beyond the war my father probably would have refused you. I know what Midori-san and Tsu-chan are going through."

"Tokio," he looked at the shoji leading into Midori's room with some annoyance.

She knew from his expression that he was trying not to remember the past which her words had brought to the forefront; she'd seen that look enough times whenever the Boshin War or even some odd hint of the Bakumatsu was brought up. That time when he'd been married to Yaso had been a difficult period for both of them for multiple reasons, some of which still occasionally haunted them to this very day.

"I'll try to better understand that girl, but I'm not promising much," he finally conceded.

"I'm sure once you spend more time with her you'll come to appreciate her good qualities as well."

"Humph."

"Now who else could mediate to her family for us?"

"Ask Hideo-san."

"Good idea."

* * *

Saito frowned as he read the magazine. The _Kyu Bakufu _magazine, written by some Bakumatsu figures, contained a biography of Kondo. It wasn't a terrible portrayal of the infamous leader of the Shinsengumi and it at least didn't overlook or express unbridled censure towards him like some publications did to Hijikata.

"Hajime?" Tokio appeared in the shoji. He flipped the magazine closed and resolved to finish the article later.

"What's the matter?"

"They refused again."

"I told you they would."

"I don't need you to be an asshole right now, koishii," he raised a brow at her word choice as she stomped over and grabbed his arm. "Get up and walk over to Hiroshi's with me."

"Why are we going to Hiroshi's?"

"He's going to mediate for us since Hideo-san failed."

He pulled his arm from his wife's clutches, "I am not going to be a part of this. Let it go."

"No," she gave him a pout which he averted his eyes from; experience had taught him that to stare too long at her pouting signaled his doom. Switching tactics she placed both hands on her hips and glaring at him proclaimed with the seriousness she could muster, "No futon time for a month if you don't come over to Hideo-san's."

"That's a bluff," he opened his magazine and began reading where he left off.

"Hajime!" He ignored her outburst as he focused on his task. Tokio wasn't going to get him so easily; he'd learned to out maneuver her manipulating ways years ago.

"Koishii?" The wavering of her voice indicated tears would soon follow, but he stuck resolutely to his reading.

"I'm pregnant!" He gave her a brief glanced to signify that he didn't believe her for an instant and went back to his magazine.

"Kami damn you, Hajime," she stormed out. He smirked as he watched her go over his reading material. He closed the magazine, found her waiting by the shoji outside, and smirked as he walked quietly beside her.

"I knew you come. Lack of futon time must have convinced you."

"I won't deny it," he was concerned, if not for futon time, about Tokio's emotional investment into this business of the marriage of Midori and Tsutomu. "Why do you care?"

"He's our son," she answered with some weariness. "He deserves all the happiness this world has to offer. I want him to be as well off as us when he reaches this age."

"Marrying Midori-san won't cement happiness in his life, Tokio," he grabbed a cigarette out since he knew he was going to need one.

"But it will ensure he experiences some."

"Tsutomu will only be happy if he works at it as we have. He should just go himself to the Nishino residence."

"That's not how it works. Our own marriage had Katamori, Sagawa Kanbei, and Hiroshi serve as our go betweens if you recall."

"As much as I disagree with most Western customs―."

"Smoking those cancer sticks aside I suppose."

"Cigarettes excluded, I can see the importance of him addressing her family directly. If he wants results he needs less impartial go-betweens."

"Kenjiro-san and Hideo-san want his happiness too. Why do you assume their failures came from lack of motivation?"

"Either Nishino-san is too barbaric to be reasoned with or Kenjiro-sama wasn't trying."

"As much as your respect of Kenjiro-sama baffles me I can't see him not trying to some extent."

"His sentiment could the same as mine?"

"What's that?"

"That Tsutomu is too immature to marry."

She stopped walking on the middle of the bridge receiving cautious glances from those who passed her by.

"What?"

"You didn't…"

"Tokio use sentences."

"Tell me you didn't!"

His frustration was close to boiling over due to the constant annoyances of late and his typically short temper, "I didn't what, woman?"

"You didn't convince Kenjiro-san that Tsu-chan was too young to marry or some other nonsense did you?"

He frowned, blowing smoke out and getting annoyed when it blew straight back into his face cause of the wind. He hadn't wanted Tokio to realize his hand in this. She was going to be upset, he could already see the irate emotions in her eyes and now her body started shaking in angry.

"Goro Fujita!" She glared as she marched past him, walking to the end of the bridge and waiting for him. He followed with impending sense of doom weight each step. His feet had never thumped so loudly upon a surface before. He threw his cigarette remain into the water and crossing his arms walked in complete, unbearable silence to Hiroshi's house with a wife who was going to give him a good earful.

He was just through the shoji when Tokio, overcome by her anger, smacked her bare palm against his cheek. He had never been hit by a woman before.

"Hajime Saito, you insufferable asshole," she punched his chest. "How dare you interfere with Tsutomu's happiness!"

Hiroshi, about to have a nice cup of sake as he read the Tokyo paper, stared in complete shock at the ballistic scene before him.

"You know your punches don't hurt, right?"

"What are you two doing?"

"I'm too upset to even explain," Tokio grabbed his sake and downed the contents. Then realizing how rude she'd been apologized with a bow and, finally regaining some semblance of calm, related the reason for the sudden outburst he'd witnessed.

"Goro-san, I know you have odd methods of handling some circumstances but to do what Tokio-san is suggesting…even for you…is hard to swallow."

"Tsutomu is not ready for marriage, to Midori-san or anyone else."

"Why do you think that?"

"He hasn't even finished school. Not only that he has no means of support for himself and his wife, I would not protest them staying temporally with us, but not to have some occupancy before marriage is moronic, something only Morinosuke would attempt. What if Midori-san should begat his damnable offspring while he has no finances? Thirdly…do you really want me to list the millions of reasons I have?"

"I can understand your concern at the lack of levity towards the arrangements, but to infer to such a degree?" Hiroshi rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I don't think going to Kenjiro-san and trying to underhandedly ruin the meeting was the most honorable thing. So it's fine to just overlook those tenets of Bushido like respect, honesty, loyalty, and benevolence when the moment suits you?"

"I did no such thing. I did not lie to Kenjiro-san, I merely expressed my opinion and he agreed. As for loyalty what greater way to express it than looking out for a son's welfare? As for the other two I won't even dignify them with a response."

"If you had concerns Hajime why didn't you just say so?" He scowled at Hiroshi's answer.

"Hajime, don't brood. I'm the one who should be angry."

"I spoke of my worries and was either blatantly disregarded," he met his wife's eye pointedly. Tokio had completely ignored any qualms about the marriage since day one. "Or my opinion was considered invalid."

"That isn't true."

"I brought up the lack of financial stability two times with you after you first told me of this ridiculous scheme. You said it was a small certain and that since Midori was coming to stay with us anyway what harm could there be in marriage? Don't you remember, Tokio?"

She bowed her head, "I do remember that, but we're already supporting her by having her live with us. What's the problem?"

"The problem is Tsutomu's lack of maturity. At his age Eiji was working and doing well for himself. Tsutomu lacks discipline. He always has. Tsuyoshi would be better suited to marriage than him."

"I believe Goro-san has a point."

"I know you adore Midori-san, but the situation isn't right for your goals."

"But they love each other."

"If they do they can wait. We did."

"Hajime…"

"Fine."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"So why did you two come over?"

* * *

"I want to finish that article about Kondo before next year," he crossed his arms, glancing at his wife. Tatsuo was laughing as Tokio told him something funny as they stood in the Numazawa residence's garden. His youngest smiled as his brown eyes glowed with the warmth the Takagi were known for. His dark hair he wore short with little tuffs pressed neatly against his ears. His kimono was grey with a blue obi. He may have only been thirteen but he could see the boy was clearly Tokio's spitting image in facial features and personality. Of all their children Tatsuo was the most like Tokio; innocent benevolence wrapped around an older core of steel.

"Fujita-san?" He nodded his head in the direction of wife and child. Kuni came closer and spotted them. She rubbed her hands against her orange kimono.

"I sometimes wish you all would come over less," she confessed stiffly.

"Why do you say that?"

"He's a lot different than Kachiro and I. He…he knows that too. I think he wonders at times."

"We've never been too obvious about it. I know I haven't anyway. Tokio keeps a distance, even if she hates it, and besides the occasional visit and family events."

"He doesn't suspect that he's adopted, much less from you two, but he certainly wonders about the differences between Kachiro and me."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

She looked startled, eyes widened in her small face and hands fussing with her kimono. She was almost as fussy as Tokio about neatness; he imagined Takagi men liked that quality in their wives. "I don't know either. I guess I just wish we could really make him our own, but he'll never be completely ours."

"Then I suppose we understand each other," he lit a cigarette. Today was horrible. Why couldn't he just be left alone to read that damn magazine?

* * *

"Goro-san," Midori poured his tea, a task usually reversed for Tokio, and met his eye with some trepidation.

"What?"

"Um…" she glanced over at Tokio as if she would help her before focusing all her attention on her hands.

"Shyness irritates me."

"Is there nothing that doesn't?" Her snarky reply was followed by her lowering her head with shame mingled uncertainty.

"Speaking your mind doesn't annoy me; I only get annoyed when fools like Morinosuke speak up. Now if we are going to converse let's commence with annoying things. Otherwise I'm going to finish the damn magazine I started this morning and was rudely interrupted from," he didn't spare a look at Tokio, knowing she understood his frustration.

"Fujita-san," he let out a deep breath, meeting her eyes indifferently. "I…I don't want you to think I…" Tsutomu kept trying to catch her gaze with his worried one as Tsuyoshi, buried in some book, sat with an unconformable expression at the sudden silence.

"Are you going to continue?"

"I don't want you to think ill of me. I'm aware I came off rudely the first time we met, but to be honest you're probably the rudest man I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

"And?"

"And…I hate yours rules. First off why must we eat soba every night? Soba gets disgusting after a while and why oolong tea all the time? Does no one get a say in what we have? Why is it that only you and Tokio are allowed sake? Also why can't we bother either of you after nine?"

"That last rule is mandatory."

"But why?"

"Don't even ask, Midori-san," Tsuyoshi, who had nearly witnessed his parents after nine once, shrieked.

"Do you know how babies are born?" The girl's eyes went as wide as saucers and then she blushed at the idea, he hoped she wasn't having mental images for he feared he'd never be able to face her again if she was. "Good. As for the others I like soba and oolong and occasionally Tokio disobeys and does something different."

"I intend to have Kenjiro-san over tomorrow and he doesn't like soba, Hajime koishii."

"So I should eat out?"

"You dislike Kenchinjiru so I would assume you should."

"That's without meat right?"

"Yes, Yoshi-san."

"I'd rather eat soba with Otosan. Can I eat out with you tomorrow?"

"If you must."

* * *

"So what's that?"

"_Kyu Bakufu _magazine."

"I see."

"Why'd you bring it with?"

"Tokio wouldn't give me any peace last night so I didn't have time to finish reading." Tsuyoshi visibly winced at the implication of what his parents had been doing last night and instead focused on his soba.

"I thought you don't really care for soba."

"And I thought you don't like magazines."

"This one has an article about Kondo."

"I actually wanted to talk to you," he slurped his noodles. Saito ate quietly for a few minutes as Tsuyoshi finished his soba and set it aside. "I already mentioned this to Okasan. I've been talking to Hideo-san and Kenjiro-san about it a lot lately…and Katamori-sama always inspired me because he was so learned…I want to go study aboard."

Saito, at the moment Tsuyoshi had dropped the last sentence, was in the middle of drinking. He set the cup down and met his middle son's unflinching eyes. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"I've talked extensively with Hideo-san and Kenjiro-san, both have been to the aboard to America. The outside world has so much to offer and though I love Japan and our people's customs I feel I could only grow more as a person by experience other cultures."

"Do you intend to study aboard as Tokio's cousins did?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"America?"

"I've been thinking about where for some time. America seems interesting but I find I'm more inclined to go to Britain or France. I guess the French officers in Hokkaido left some sort of impression. I know you named Tatsuo-san after them anyway."

"How much does Tokio know?"

"I've spoken to her a few times and she told me you'd understand…but I wasn't sure you would."

"I understand this better than I understand your brother's foolishness with Midori-san. I was once erringly young and looking for adventure when I joined the Shinsengumi. If this is really what you want you needn't have bothered to speak to me."

"I didn't want to leave anyone on bad terms."

"Good. That is how a man handles things. You don't ever do a half assed job like your brother, understood?"

"Yes, Otosan," he swore Tsuyoshi had never smiled at him with as much love as that day.

* * *

"You're really letting him go to France?"

"What is wrong with that?" Tokio, face bewildered, turned from the entrance to face Tsutomu, besides Tsuyoshi was already gone from sight.

"He can go off and mess around but I can't get married? What kind of crap is this?"

"Tsutomu, you aren't prepared to marry."

"And Tsuyoshi's prepared for France? I don't think they are even in the same league."

"You are right about that. Marriage takes far more commitment. Now sit down and finish your soba."

"No," Tsutomu, anger that all of his brother's dreams were coming true, ran from the house. He cursed as he ran through crowds of people and eventually made it to the harbor. He spotted Tsuyoshi almost instantly, he was standing off to the side, one hand holding his luggage as the other fiddled nervously with his pocket watch.

"Yoshi-san!" Tsuyoshi lifted his head and burst into a smile. He wasn't suspecting what came next. Tsutomu fist connected with his jaw and Tsuyoshi fell onto his back, staring in confusion at his brother. After a moment of crowd staring and Tsuyoshi's hurt face he offered him his hand. His brother reluctantly accepted, dusting off his bum once standing.

"What was that for? I know you've been grumpy lately, but that was―."

"Yoshi-kun," his voice broke before the tears started sliding down his cheek. "I can't believe all your dreams are coming true and I'm still going to be struck here once you're gone. Nothing's going right…Midori-san isn't allowed to marry me and I'm unable to do anything until I graduate…and now you're leaving me too."

"Tsu-kun," he wrapped an arm around his brother. "I'm sure everything will be fine. The Nishino will change their mind once you're successful and you know Midori-san will wait for you because she loves you. What do you have to worry about? You're the lucky one, silly, I'm the one still waiting for a cute girl to fall into my arms and I still don't even know what I really want to do… Don't cry, Tsu-kun, come on, this is embarrassing with all these people here…"

"Sorry, Yoshi."

"Don't worry about it. It's what brothers do best. Cheer up alright? Next time you see me you'll be the one with everything worked out, promise. Until then remember me every time Otosan calls you an idiot or when Okasan gives you that annoyed look, ok?"

"I wish you weren't leaving…I'm going to miss you, brother."

"I know, dumbass," he ruffled his hair in the way Tokio often did to all of them. "See ya."

"Don't stay away too long or I'll come and drag you back, idiot!" Tsuyoshi waved as he boarded the ship and Tsutomu, upset that his brother was leaving, waited at the dock until the ship was only a tiny speck among the blue water of the Sea of Japan.

* * *

Kyu Bakufu Magazine-Bakumatsu publication that contained a biography about Isami Kondo and ceased publication in 1901.

Kenchinjiru-Japanese Zen Buddhist (vegan cause of oblivious reasons) vegetable soup.


	67. Chapter 67: Tokyo, 1900, Part 1

For those of you reading this chapter: I made a terrible error in Chapter 65. Hiroshi, who I wrote a small scene for is dead by 1898 (I knew he died soon but I forgot to double check while writing) and since that chapter clearly states 1899 we have a problem. I gave Hiroshi's part to Kachiro (none of my research states he's dead yet thankfully) and instead added an extra scene between Morinosuke and Saito reminiscing about Hiroshi so there you go. No need to reread the entire chapter if you don't want to, just read the first little scene and you are golden.

* * *

"I can't believe this has taken over six times, but it is certainly worth it," Tokio pronounced as she straightened Tsutomu's kimono.

"Six times of trying for this meeting should have been a sign, wife," Saito remarked drily.

"Stop fussing I look fine," her eldest protested.

"Until your juban is correct you are not leaving this house," Saito snapped as he finished perfecting his hair. This meeting was important for Tokio and Tsutomu, and even though he still didn't agree whole heartedly with this decision, Midori-san had grown on him over the last year.

Midori appeared from her room, dressed in a simple blue yukata and zori scandals. Her hair was held with a grey ribbon that matched her obi. She smiled and took Tsutomu's hand as they exited the house. Saito scrutinized Tsutomu from head to foot as they walked. The boy had a tendency to overlook proper grooming. His hair, which Tokio had styled, matched the way he wore his but without the bangs. His kimono was a dark grey with black obi. It appeared in order until he reached his son's geta scandals.

"Pick up your feet when you walk, brat, you desire to make a good impression do you not?"

"What's wrong with how I walk?" Tsutomu shot back in frustration. Today had been trial after agonizing trial with both his parents.

"You walk like a certain birdbrain I know. Fix it immediately."

"You really shouldn't have asked that, Tsu-chan," Tokio cautioned with some anxiety. "Don't antagonize him, Goro, he's already a ball of nerves."

"If this meeting goes horribly he has only himself to blame."

"Oh, koishii," she took his hand, which she seldom did in public, and he noticed how sweaty her palm was. She had to be nervous if she was clinging so tightly to him.

The venue their go-between had chosen for the miai meeting was a restaurant located approximately between their two homes. The distance was to symbolize the unification of Midori and Tsutomu and the two families Hideo-san had informed him.

"Ah, Fujita-san," Hideo waved them over. Nishino was a tall, pensive faced man and his somber looking wife gave little impression besides the fact that she was fashionable from the look of her kimono and bira bira. He was slightly put off by Nishino's westernized garb and the wife's flagrantly Western hairstyle.

"Hideo-sama," he greeted stiffly.

"Fujita-san, this is Sadaaki and Hatsuko Nishino-san." Tsutomu and Midori, though well acquainted, were allowed some privacy (privacy in Saito's eyes was more for the parents since they still needed convincing) and the parents and Hideo started some small talk.

Tokio and Hideo, both vocal and social, struck up conversation with the wife. Tokio mentioned her gardening and Hatsuko brought up her love of ikebana, which Tokio, ever unskilled at it, immediately began pumping for easy pointers. Saito, annoyed with the trivial discussion, crossed his arms and vowed to wait it out. Sadaaki watched the chattering trio with indifference. Hideo made a pass to include the head of the Nishino house by mentioning his schoolwork. This causal inquiry seemed to offer no allurement for he only gave the obligatory remark and went back to silence.

Saito held the man's eyes, wondering as they stared at each other, if the other man was waiting on him to speak. Nishino, aware that Saito's position in the household was influential, probably wanted some assurance of his daughter's future prospects and who better to give such certainty than the father-in-law? Saito scowled, he wasn't one for flowery words and he felt he could make no assurances to Nishino even if he'd known what to say.

"I'm going out for a smoke."

"I'll join you," Nishino followed him outside. He saw Tokio's fidgeting as they left. Stupid woman was worrying for nothing. How could anything go wrong if he didn't speak to Sadaaki?

"You smoke western cigarettes?" Sadaaki asked as they stood outside the establishment.

"You have no qualms with some western customs I see," he said without preamble as he blew smoke into the night sky. His decision not to speak already a failure he determined to change tactics from thereon and wondered if his phrase held offense as he took a long drag.

"I see the importance of the foreigners, far better than some disgruntled samurai do unfortunately."

"You say unfortunately?"

"The West has much to offer, not only in their advanced way of life but their ideals. They, French, British, American, are unique in many ways and we can learn much from all of them."

"A pro-foreigner," he watched the ash fall from his cigarette onto the road beneath his feet. "I take it you disagreed with the Choshu stance of 'Revere the Emperor and Expel the Barbarians' from back during the Tokugawa period then?"

"Any civilized man should. I much prefer the stance they took not long after that. They saw the Western power and knew swords couldn't fight cannon so they began to think differently and came to the concluded that―."

"'Japanese Spirit, Western Technology' worked best?"

"Exactly." Sadaaki closed his eyes and Saito didn't doubt he was remembering that time. "The Bakufu was wrong in many regards; keeping people isolated in classes, keeping education out of the hands of the commoner, and refusing to even listen to other ideas…that was all wrong."

"Now you want to know my stance?" Saito dropped his finished cigarette onto the ground and put it out with the bottom of his scandal.

"I didn't mean―."

"Cut the crap. You only rambled on about your beliefs as a way to illicit mine from me. I don't hold it against you, Nishino-san, for it's not a terrible way to ask. I would if I were going to marry my own daughter want to know the ideology of the parent-in-law."

"I am glad you do not disagree with my reasoning. I fret over her."

"Understandably so." He met Sadaaki's eyes and gave a very Miburo-like smirk. "The Bakufu was right in many ways as well. To judge an epoch without considering good and bad qualities collectively results in failure to truly understand that time period. The samurai may have been wrong in many ways, but their adherence to Bushido, that most honorable of code, can only be esteemed. Do you disagree?"

"I do not. The foreigners lack such solidarity of their beliefs from all I've witnessed of them."

"Should we judge them wrong for their lack of solidarity? In a place such as America they may believe unity a bad thing."

"I heard mention of the Civil War over there around the time of our own unrest."

"Unity between anyone is seldom absolute. To form nations some unity is required; even in something as small as marriage needs great understanding between both husband and wife to work properly."

"Do you think your son and my daughter would be a good union?"

Saito crossed his arms, "I've many misgivings about such an arrangement. It especially concerned me at the outset. I know you've been reluctant as well, Nishino-san, that is very apparent by your desire to even have this miai."

"I hoped you had the same reservations as I do. My wife is adamant about Midori-san marrying given her marriage age and thinks she will never be a grandmother in her lifetime. I tell her that is nonsense, but I didn't marry Hatsuko-san expecting her to be reasonable."

"Tokio is equally pleased with the idea of marriage. She is not usually so…unreasonable," Sadaaki smiled at his word choice, "but she adores Midori-san and I believe part of the reason Tokio dotes on her is because we never had a girl."

"Feel blessed, Fujita-san, women are illogical creatures we are burdened with."

Saito chuckled, which surprised himself, and had to admit Sadaaki wasn't as bad as he'd first envisioned him to be. He had a sense of humor at least which wasn't too far from his own.

"If they must marry," Sadaaki stared up into the firmament with an indescribable expression, "I wish only for her happiness. I understand the fleetingness of love in young hearts, but if she should marry I would like her to marry into a house that will feel like home with or without her husband."

"It is true that young passions evaporate with time, I've known a few myself, but I do believe the brat sincere in his affections, which, since you don't know Tsutomu well, is hard to inspire in him."

"Much like yourself I take it?" Saito scowled which made Sadaaki's current smile waver a little.

"What makes you think that he's anything like me? Tsutomu is a moron through and through and to be as impartial as possible I'd say he's too stupid to marry your daughter, for she does have a bright head, but a foolish heart."

"Goro?" They both turned to see Tokio in the doorway, "Are you two coming back inside or do you prefer the night to the warmth and good company inside?" Tokio's upset look at him did not go unnoticed and he knew later was going to be hell. He hadn't expected her to be angry at him for talking to Sadaaki outside.

"Forgive your husband, Fujita-san, he was entertaining me with some conversation."

"Entertaining isn't a word most use for Goro, Sadaaki-san," she gave him a quizzical look as they reentered the restaurant. Saito shrugged, he was as confused as Tokio about Sadaaki's word choice.

"I believe my wife and I must speak privately about this matter," Sadaaki said once he sat down. "We will inform you of our decision."

"Thank you, Nishino-san," Tokio smiled as she bowed. "I'm hoping my impression upon Hatsuko-san is enough to convince Sadaaki-san after you're interrogation."

"Who said I was the one doing the interrogating," he glared at his wife, thinking in his head that the discussion had been two-sided.

"Sadaaki-san seems like too much of a nice fellow to do anything like you're suggesting, Goro, and I know you too well to assume you did anything less." Tokio gave him a hard look, "There will be no futon time tonight."

He sighed and wished he'd never taken up smoking. It was officially his bad habit's fault that the reason for her anger had occurred in the first place.

"We've reached a decision," Sadaaki said as he glanced at Hatsuko. "We would like to go ahead with the miai kekkon."

Tsutomu's face beamed with relief as Midori's head went down as she fought back tears. She went and hugged her parents, expressing how happy she was that they had finally agreed to the marriage.

* * *

Hideo walked with them as Tsutomu lead the group. "Why did I have to come?" He demanded of his pleased wife.

"Because Tsutomu appreciates it. Relax, koishii, the hard part is over."

"I think you mean the hard part is just beginning," he muttered in annoyance.

"What don't we have yet, Hideo-san?"

"The Naga-Noshi, the Surume, and the Shiraga."

"Right. Next stop the Surume since its closest."

"I can't believe Tsutomu-san's getting married," Hideo smiled, "Seems like yesterday he was calling you dragon head and crawling around the house."

"Actually it was snake head, Hideo-san," Tokio's giggle received a glare.

"Humph." Half an hour later they walked back home. Saito smoked up a storm as Tokio and Hideo talked about school and an excited Tsutomu carried all his gifts with a grin on his face. He had enough when the boy started to hum and with great annoyance whacked him on the back of the head.

* * *

"Naga-Noshi?"

"Abalone shells are right here," Hideo said with a smile.

"Kinpou and Katsuo-bushi?"

"Everything is here, Tsutomu, stop worrying."

"I'm just so nervous."

"I know," Hideo smiled. "I'm sure everything will go well."

"Good luck," Tokio called after Hideo as he left with the gifts for Midori's family.

"I'm glad that's over. Too much womanly fussing," Saito dug into his soba as Tsutomu, still hyped up from all the serious arrangements, went outside to wait for Hideo's return. "That boy is really overreacting to everything. I'm just glad I wasn't like that when I got married."

"You were indifferent to both marriages."

"Yaso wasn't overly emotional either if I recall correctly and I expected ours."

"Still," she looked away.

"Still what?"

"I would have felt surer about ours if you'd been a little more eager, Hajime."

"When am I ever jumping for joy about anything?"

"You get excited when futon time comes, when you get to kill, and seeing people tortured and for Kami sake soba makes you more excited than our marriage day."

"Tokio," he paused when he caught the smile she was trying to hide behind the sleeve of her kimono. "You vixen," he grabbed her and kissed her. "Tsutomu is doomed if Midori-san is as smart as you."

"Oh she is."

"Poor idiot."

* * *

Midori wore the traditional white shiromuku and tsuno kakushi. Kanzashi gleamed brightly against the darkness of her hair and the snowflake white of the tsuno kakushi. Tokio, tears in her eyes, clutched at the sleeve of his haori as they watched the ceremony and kept glancing at him and smiling. He assumed the ceremony was bringing up a ton of memories. He vaguely remembered his wedding to Yaso and could still picture Tokio in her shiromuku.

Tsutomu, dressed in black montsuki, haori, and gray hakama, looked the part of an actual groom much to Saito's surprise. The vows were exchanged at a Shinto shrine and the reception was held at a local venue picked by Hideo. Midori when she came to the reception had changed from the shiromuku to a red uchikake. She smiled and greeted guests warmly beside the cheerful Tsutomu. He found himself thinking of them as a young Ryoko and Morinosuke. Why did his son have to be so stupid?

He was stunned when one of Nishino's friends showed them this odd device called a Brownie camera. He asked what the purpose of the device was to the astonishment of Sadaaki, his family friend, and Midori. He asked the friend what film roll was when he brought it up and Saito could only reply that he had no idea what he was talking about when the man expressed surprise. When the man began to explain to him what the Brownie did he frowned, saying the only image capturing device he knew of was the daguerreotype (he got the name wrong, but thankfully the man knew what he was referring too) and he'd only ever seen it done once and put onto a dry plate. Saito thought it was a cold plate but the man said otherwise.

"So you capture our…"

"Yes!"

"Hump," Saito took a deep breath and the man, holding the camera and smiling told the group they looked great. He doubted it. He was grateful the trial was over and as they walked home immediately told Tokio he would never take a photograph again to which she protested and demanded that she wanted one of him.

* * *

"Sit still, koishii," Tokio was glaring at him.

"I need a smoke."

"It can wait."

"No," he stood and left the room, much to the frustration of Tokio and the photographer.

"He's just moody today," she said in way of apology and followed him outside. "You are getting this photograph taken. I had mine taken and now you are getting yours, Goro, get back in there."

"Humph."

"If Fujita-san doesn't want a photo," the photographer started uneasily from the open shoji.

"Don't you dare let him get out of this. You are getting a photo, even if I have to steal your cigarettes."

"My cigarettes are right here, Tokio."

"But I have your matches," she held them up with a triumphant smile and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. He glared and reached for the matches only to have her duck back inside the house. "Get your photograph and you can have them back."

"Sly onna," he said as he went back inside. He went to the bedroom and they could hear some noise and cursing.

"Goro!" He stuck his head through the bedroom shoji. "I hid the one's you keep in there too." Defeated at last he came back into the room and settled into seiza.

"If this takes too long," he snapped at the photographer, "I'm killing both of you and getting my matches back."

The man smiled uneasily and began the arduous process of taking a photo.

* * *

"Midori is pregnant," Tsutomu, sitting across from his father, watched with some misgiving the stoical countenance for any signs of emotion.

"And?"

"Well…"

"What sort of reaction were you expecting?"

"I'd thought you'd be angry."

"It's not my problem. Tokio will be ecstatic though."

"I'm sure she will."

"How do you intend to support the child and Midori-san?"

"Japan has been at odds with the Russians," he said at last.

"I thought you were against killing."

"I am," he closed his eyes and Saito knew he was remembering that inn incident. "But you can't really fight conscription." Saito disagreed with conscription for several reasons; first and foremost was the unwilling solider appeared less likely in his mind to be an able solider, though he heard some statistics stated otherwise, and secondly was that men who didn't desire to kill others shouldn't be forced to sully their hands.

"It is a disagreeable thing."

"I'm hoping going into the navy results in less causalities."

"That notion is wrong. I've heard fighting on ships can cause just as many."

"I know at least one good thing will come of this."

Saito frowned, "What?"

"I've never completely understood you, Otosan, and more than anything I want to. The only way I think I can understand you is by going to war and experiencing what you went through with the Shinsengumi. It won't be the same, but…maybe I can understand better once I've taken life myself…"

"Tsutomu."

"I've always felt there was a barrier between us, especially after that day and though I didn't agree with Aku Soku Zan I know how important it was to you, now and then. You never really gave up that motto; sure you stopped killing evil but that was mostly because of age and because you knew others would take up the motto after you quit. They may not have used Aku Soku Zan in so many words, but those who follow your path believe that ideology."

He stared at his son with some surprise. Tsutomu, eyes lowered and hands resting on his knees, looked more a man than he ever had before. He was only twenty four (the year being 1900 and Tsutomu's birthday being in February) and yet Saito could see the wear of years upon his young shoulders. To think his son was truly a man was astonishing. Their eyes held as Tokio entered with dinner. Tsutomu's eyes, a mixture of emotions, and Saito's approving amber orbs met over the lacquer trays.

"Tsutomu-san, you'll make a fine solider." He was a bite surprised at the honorific his father attached to his name, but realizing the significance of it, he smiled broadly in appreciation.

* * *

Tsutomu kissed Midori, holding her tightly to him for several long moments, and swearing that no matter what happened he loved her. Motoko, a little spitfire just like her father, cuddled into Tokio's arm, oblivious to the fact that her father might die in war.

"My little girl," Motoko blinked brown eyes up at her father. Tsutomu touched her head, looking on the verge of tears.

Tokio watched him leave with much of the same emotions she had felt when she watched Saito leave year after year. She took his hand, remembering when she'd thought she'd lost him to the Southwestern Rebellion.

He squeezed her hand and led the family back inside. He sat down as Tokio went to prepare some tea and Midori went with Motoko to her room. He scowled as he heard the noise. Midori came out, looking startled when she spotted him waiting for her.

"Please tell me that moron of a son of mine didn't get you pregnant again?"

"Sorry, Fujita-san."

"Did I ever tell you I hate children?"

"Another one so soon?" Tokio said with a smile as she placed the tray. "Motoko is a real cute baby, I can't imagine another one. Do you think this one will be a girl too?"

"Why are financial burdens completely ignored when it comes to children?" Saito asked stiffly, glaring at both women with some vexation. "Please tell me you'll at least pick a better name?"

"What's wrong with Motoko?"

"I just don't like it."

"You don't like anything," Midori said with a teasing smile.

"I like cigarettes."

"That's true," Tokio said while rolling her eyes.

* * *

Long Author's Note (Read at own peril):

The only photograph of Saito is a questionable one, considered to be a relative by some, so if you think the picture is ugly you are in luck as it might not be him. :)

The Japanese started conscripting in 1873. I don't know if Tsutomu was a conscript or not, he might have volunteered, but my sources only say he fought in the War of the Japan Sea on the ship Mikawa. For the sake of this story Tsutomu was conscripted since I'd label him as a pacifist who would only fight if he had to meaning he wouldn't be likely to volunteer.

So I have looked, trust me on this, and I can't find the names of Midori's parents. Also I don't know when the marriage took place (I know it happened after Midori graduated so I can pinpoint the year at least) and when their children were born. Sadaaki and Hatsuko's names come from Katamori Matsudaira's brother and his wife. Katamori had four brothers of which Sadaaki was one, they were called the four Takasu brothers and were all influential to Japanese history. In fact the other two were from the Hitotsubashi House of the Tokugawa clan.

Japanese words to know this chapter:

Brownie-one of the first camera invented by Kodak, became very popular, my grandma might remember the 1966 version, but that's a ton different than the original 1900 camera :)

Daguerreotype-one of the first type of cameras invented, it used cold and dry plates to put the pictures on

Miai-Japanese custom of marriage, Miai could be translated as, "arranged marriage." Some Japanese still practice this form of marriage today, though usually only a small percent as many Japanese prefer Western style weddings. Typically a go-between or matchmaker arranges meetings between two families of equal rank and the family gets acquainted, then the couple dates for a short time (usually they have three dates), and marry

Miai kekkon-pretty much the formal betrothal of the two couples after the initial miai phase

Sadaaki Matsudaira-1847-1908, Japanese daimyo and last ruler of Kuwana Domain

War of the Japan Sea-also called Battle of Tsushima, was between Japanese and Russians and a major naval victory for the newly modernized Japan (Tsutomu was reported to have fought it in)

Russo-Japanese War-involved Russia and Japan fighting over the Manchuria and Korea, most of the operations took place in Southern Manchuria around Liaodong Peninsula and Mukden and the surrounding seas.

Yuino-bethrothal ceremony, go betweens would go from the grooms home to the brides and deliver the gifts and afterwards a date would be set for the actual wedding.

The nine gifts the groom gives the bride and family are below (the go-between delivers them in this order):

Naga-Noshi-aka abalone shell used to express sincere wishes

Mokuroku-the list of all the gifts

Kinpou-Money, usually five thousand

Katsuo-bushi-dried bonito (used to make soup stock), expresses the wish for a lasting marriage

Surume-dried cuttlefish, given for same reason as Katsuo-bushi

Konbu-dried kelp, used to express wish for many children

Shiraga-hemp, the strong fibers represent the ties of family, also hemp means white hair, the hope the couple reach old age together

Suehiro-a fan, a wish for happiness and a better future

Yanagi-daru-a wine cask, nowadays money is often given to purchase sake instead, the cask symbolizes obedience and gentleness in marriage

Engagement rings-The groom gives one to the bride, who gives him anything from a watch (sometimes a pair), new suit, cuff link, etc


	68. Chapter 68: Aizu, 1907, Part 1

Tokio smiled, and wiping her dirty hands on her kimono, stood to survey her new accomplishment with pride. It felt good doing some constructive labor; ever since her Aizu days she'd given up most meaningfully labor with the exclusion of her little plot at home. Saito was the one who traveled all over Japan and fought sensuous battles against evil; she was the housewife left to raise two unruly children. She knew some would consider her raising her children as hard work, but she didn't view it that way at all. Her children were her pride and joy and doing something like this was really partly a distraction from Tsutomu's unfortunate conscription and a way to feel usefully now that they were grown.

"Fujita-san," she turned to see Yamamoto Yaeko, a fellow Aizu native and participate of the Boshin War during the fall of Aizuwakamatsu, approach her. She led Yaeko over to the still unplanted cherry blossom trees. "They are going to look so wonderful once they reach ripe old age."

"They are like children," Tokio said with a wistful expression, "hard to plant and even harder to manage over the years, but so beautiful when they finally reach maturity."

"I agree completely."

"Do you remember when we met in Aizuwakamatsu, Fujita-san?"

"I remember you hated the haircut I gave you."

"When the castle was besieged in 1868 women were allowed to fight during the night. Before the sortie I started to cut my hair and you were there to help me finish it properly."

"It wasn't done very well."

"Nonsense. You were a great help and your brother Takagi-san as well."

"Morinosuke was a child pretending to be a man," she could still recall how happy he'd been to do his share during the upheaval of the siege. Even Morinosuke had seen the toll war was bringing those around him and had offered his assistance.

"I'm curious about something I heard of your husband Fujita-san."

"What?"

"Is he really a Shinsengumi captain?" She met the woman's eyes with unease, wondering how she knew that, but after a moment concluded that Yaeko's Aizu connections had provided the pivotal information. After all both her and Saito actively kept in touch with former Aizu who might have let that information slip to Yaeko. It wasn't like she was untrustworthy, though Saito might have said otherwise.

"He was the third unit captain once."

"To even meet the man, much less marry him, must have been quite the honor. I heard Matsudaira-sama arranged it?"

"He was our go-between along with Hiroshi Yamakawa-san."

"I remember him! He was the one who did the lion dance. How wonderful it must be to know so many important Aizu men!"

"Having known Hiroshi and Katamori was a true blessing, but I wouldn't say that of Goro-san. He can be a real thorn in my side, case of point being his reluctance to even let me come to Aizu."

"He sounds delightful." She smiled stiffly, wondering if Yaeko just happened to admire all men of Aizu indiscriminately as she and the other nine women finished planting the cherry blossom trees for the Amida-ji Temple.

Tokio smiled as she left the Amida-ji Temple grounds with Yaeko and the other women. The fall air was crisp and her kimono felt insignificant against the chill, the leave covered path was another telltale sign it was inching closer to winter. Yaeko was talking about the past again, remembering them all of their time spent in Aizuwakamatsu. She glanced back, catching sight of the temple's tiered rooftop amidst the beautiful orange leaves. She threw her shoulders back, wondering why she felt so on edge this evening and hurried up to match Yaeko's pace.

"I think we should stop at the nearest teashop and discuss old times," Yaeko suggested.

"Sounds fun," Susumu agreed.

"It's not the worst idea," she smiled. The teashop was rundown, the prices were thrifty, which she absolutely loved because she hated spending too much and Saito would have appreciated it, and the company wasn't bad either.

Yaeko insisted Tsuruga Castle must be the topic of discussion when the conversation started to change to families. Susumu started on a sad story about one of the injured men she'd helped while taking care of the soldiers in Tsuruga. Tokio, half listening, wondered why Yaeko was so intent on talking about the past. She'd helped open the Doshisha University with her Christian husband Rev. Joseph Neesima and her brother Kakuma Yamamoto and when the Sino-Japanese and Russo-Japanese Wars came she took part as a nurse. She had many accomplishments to her name before the Meiji and after so why this insistence on the past? She glanced at Yaeko and wondered if maybe she was putting emphasis on this topic merely because she was with women who'd planned minor parts in the Boshin War? Maybe she was this way with people who'd fought in the Russo-Japanese War too?

She dismissed the idea and sipped her tea, catching a brief glimpse of blue out of the corner of her eye. The person, whoever it was, had disappeared into a nearby shop. She frowned but disregarded the notion that someone was stalking her. She wasn't nearly as paranoid as her husband, his mantra however that paranoia served a purpose raddled in the back of her brain as she finished her first cup.

"Yamamoto-san?"

"Yes, Fujita-san?"

"Would you mind taking a little walk with me?"

"Certainly not." Yaeko linked their arms as they walked away from the confused women. "Did you notice our little shadow?"

"I wasn't certain about it. I thought maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but if you noticed the person too…"

"I did notice a while back. I'm not generally paranoid, Fujita-san, but when someone has been following us all evening, from my residence when you picked me (if not sooner), up to Amida-ji and then the teashop, I've become a little anxious."

"Who do you think would follow us?"

"Disgruntled Ishin shishi?"

"That sounds…" like something Saito would say. "But why would they come after me?"

"That's a good question and to be honest I doubt they are after you. I was a gunner back remember?" Yaeko had sortied at night during the siege and having been taught by her father she'd used her knowledge of the gunnery to help defend the castle.

"You?"

"I do not doubt it. I keep a kaiken on me at all times. You can never be too careful."

"Is that really going to be necessary?"

"If he attacks us I would wager it would definitely help."

"How do we even know it's a man?"

"We should assume a man because he'll be stronger," her hand clutched Tokio's arm tightly and then her pouch with the kaiken inside. Tokio's stomach did little flip-flops at the idea she'd see another death after all these years. Life had finally been peaceful and Saito had stopped personally going out to Aku Soku Zan people and now violence was lurking just around the corner.

"I really don't want this."

"You think I do?" Yaeko fired back angrily. She composed her face quickly, no doubt to ward off suspicion from their follower that anything was wrong. "All these years I've worked hard to make up for the killings I committed. I hated murdering people, but I couldn't stand by while my clan was attacked so I did the only thing I could…I fought and I protected the people important to me. When the Boshin War ended I was relieved, but bitter too. I'd lost a lot and my brother Kakuma-san lost his eyesight and suffered imprisonment too. He was a valiant man and the Meiji painted him and other soldiers like they were nothing more than vagrant criminals. I couldn't stand that, but I preserved and when I met Joseph I knew I'd found a place for me again. I turned Christian and devoted my time to the University we founded together. I did so much… I thought I had atoned by helping those wounded in the two Wars since and through my prayers, but apparently that isn't enough. Is this a test God?"

Tokio glanced away, feeling pity and anger all at once. Someone as kind as Yaeko didn't deserve the pain the Boshin War had inflicted on her and her anger surged venomously in opposition to this cruel world. Why did things of this magnitude happen to people like Hiroshi, Yaeko, and Saito? Why did they suffer such wounds and bear them from beginning to end? Could they never be freed of the burden of death and the pain it caused? That was human life, Tokio determined, living was struggle and fighting through life's trials was the mark of a great person. She squeezed Yaeko's hand and marveled at the woman's will to life; truly she'd only respected a few people to this extent before; Saito, Hiroshi, and Katamori topped her list but now she added Yaeko's.

"This is convenient," they both jumped, Yaeko's hand slipping into the pouch on her arm. "Please don't try and draw that silly kaiken. It won't work against someone as skilled as me."

"Goro-san!" Tokio said when she recognized the unmistakable voice of her husband.

"Tokio."

"What are you doing in Aizu?"

"Well I was trying to spy on you, but it seems I failed horribly. I'm marking this one up to old age. I must be getting much worse because of this blasted knee."

"I can't believe you followed me all the way from Tokyo. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking a woman traveling unaccompanied wasn't the smartest idea. Did I not tell you that when you departed?"

"Don't you dare turn this around on me, koishii, I'm the one who nearly had a heart attack and poor Yaeko here was practically having a breakdown."

"I was not," Yaeko crossed her arms. She scrutinized Saito with an unflinching look. "This is Goro Fujita?"

"Yes."

"Can you turn around?"

"Why?" He asked as he pulled a cigarette out.

"I want to admire every angle."

Saito raised an eyebrow at the suggestive tone in Yaeko's voice and gave Tokio a, 'is she serious and nuts?' look.

"Yaeko Yamamoto-san this is Goro-san."

"Yamamoto-san sounds familiar."

"I have a brother named Kakuma. He served Matsudaira-sama in Kyoto."

"I think I remember him vaguely. He was not a bad solider, but Yaeko sounds familiar too."

"I served in Tsuruga Castle as a gunner."

"You're that Yamamoto?"

"Yes."

"Fine woman," Saito lit his cigarette. "Tokio, you keep good company."

"Thank you." She found herself walking behind them as Saito and Yaeko started reminiscing about the old days. "Where are you staying?"

"Same inn as you."

"What?"

"I'm still good at sneaking."

"That's terrible. How could you not notice?" Tokio felt her sense of inferiority rise as she ducked her head and kept walking. Saito was chuckling as Yaeko laughed.

"You've been quiet all night," Saito pointed out that night.

"I've been thinking."

"About?"

"How happy you'd be if you'd married someone like Yaeko." Silence engulfed the tiny inn room she'd rented. Saito sat up in the futon, giving her 'are you serious' look as he reached for his cigarettes. "She's so much better than I am. She's a fighter, a real fighter, and she's resourceful, a great judge of character, and she plans ahead about everything."

"Are you done pitying yourself, Tokio?"

"Hajime…"

"You really overreact to inconsequential things. You realize that right? It's terribly annoying."

"You overreact too!"

"Only when a substantial amount of evidence is put forth. I talk to Yaeko once and you say I'd be better off with her? You are a nutcase, wife."

"I am not. Yaeko is only one of many women who'd suit you better."

He closed his eyes and she could see the annoyance in the set of his mouth and the lazy way his fingers pressed the cigarette to his mouth. "We've been married how many years, Tokio?"

"Thirty three."

"If I'd be happier with someone else do you think I would've stayed this long? Sure there are more resourceful women in fighting situations, there are better lovers, better housekeepers, better everything than you, but do you know what you do best?"

She smiled weakly, "Annoy you?"

"That and you are the damn best wife Goro Fujita could have ever asked for. Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi would say you're the best mother too."

"Oh koishii…"

"Now stop whining and let's sleep."

"What if I don't want to sleep?"

"Now you want futon time?"

"Are you complaining?"

"No," he smirked as he put his cigarette out. After all these years he knew how to correct Tokio's poor self-esteem moments and he always ultimately got what he wanted by doing this.

* * *

"Fujita-san?"

_Tokio glanced out the window. The sky was clear and the sun twinkling. Some birds sang out of sight. How could birds sing so sweetly, uncaring of the world around them? The men had arrived earlier from the field and since then Matsudaira and Yamakawa were cooped up in discussion with some Shinsengumi members and other top officials. She had tried to understand what had happened during the fighting, but no one had been responsive to her questioning. Okura had finally grown sick of her sly asking over pouring their tea and waved her from the room. She was merely a woman after all and had no place in the society of men and their politics. Even Okura and Katamori who treated her well thought little of her inquiring nature._

_She rested her head against the window pane, noticing a tall figure smoking below. She couldn't make out who it was, but it appeared to be wearing the blue haori of the Shinsengumi. She frowned, why should she be like a bird that did nothing but sing sweetly, absently gazing at the world, instead of doing something?_

"_Tokio-chan," Teru's voice echoed from the inner chamber. She withdrew from the window, knowing now was not the time to think of sour things and went to find her mistress and the other ladies. Likely they would gossip, their chatter much like the birds she'd been contemplating. But what would their fate be after today? Would Matsudaira surrender the castle? It was useless pondering, she wouldn't know until the last moment because she was a woman._

"Fujita-san?" Susumu called, Yaeko shook her head and Susumu, becoming feed up with her listless stare, snapped her fingers in her face to bring her back to reality.

"Oh, Susumu-san."

"You were spacing out."

"Please forgive me."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Your story about Tomoe Gozen reminded me of the past. Don't worry about me," she smiled.

* * *

Saito frowned as he crouched on his knees, his bad one was acting up again, but he ignored it and instead focused on the word inscribed in stone. Byakkotai, their bodies thankfully allowed to be buried by the antagonistic Meiji government, laid beneath a monument erected some years ago by Aizu. Katamori, having heard of their loyalty to Aizu, their lord and families, had written a poem for them and inscribed it as his way of honoring them.

"No matter how many people wash the stones with their tears," he began.

"These names will never vanish from the world," the man who'd spoken the last words approached and crouched down beside him. He carried a bouquet of small chrysanthemums, lilies, and Sakaki and laid them on the right and left side of the monument. "Do you know any of them?"

"No," Saito answered.

"Do you know the tale?"

"They were a part of the Byakkotai. The Byakkotai were a group of high, middle, and lower class boys between sixteen and seventeen fighting during the War of Aizu. The Byakkotai middle class boys were cut off from the rest of the group and climbing Iimori Hill they saw what appeared to be the castle on fire."

"Then realizing their lord and families were gone they committed seppuku. Only one survived the encounter due to a failed attempt and was saved by a peasant."

"What was his name?"

"Sadakichi Iinuma," the man pressed a hand to the monument, "do you remember me Hajime Saito?"

"Well you remember me," Saito narrowed his eyes at the man and wondered how he recognized him after all these years. "You're Iinuma-san?"

"We never met but I remember seeing you around the castle. All you Shinsengumi had a frightening air, but you were the worse of them all next to Hijikata-san."

"Do you come here all the time?"

"I live in Sendai and once a year I like to drop by around this time."

"I'm sure if they were alive they'd say they appreciate you not forgetting about them."

"How could I ever forget?" He smiled wistfully. "Most of them were my friends and my comrades, I'd never forget them. A lot of people don't understand why I still hold the memory of them so close to my heart; they think after so many years the memories would fade and I'd give up thinking about them."

"Only those who have never lost anyone can think so idiotically."

"You might be right."

"For me the Shinsengumi will always be remembered until the day I pass on. The world has changed and I've changed right along with it, but I'll never forget how much they influenced me."

"They helped make me who I am today." Sadakichi, holding back his tears a moment ago, let them out with a heavy breath. Saito sat down in seiza as Sadakichi pressed his kimono to his cheeks and making hiccupping noises.

"I never tried seppuku," he said at last, "but I bet it hurts like a bitch."

"It does," Sadakichi said with a chuckle. He closed his eyes and settled into seiza beside him. "Are you from Aizu?"

"No. I'm here because my wife, Tokio-san, is helping honor the dead Aizu by planting cherry trees at the Amida-ji Temple."

"Tokio-san is your wife?"

"You know her?"

"When Yaeko Yamamoto heard I was going to be in Aizu and about the cherry trees she rushed from Kyoto to be here to greet me. I met Tokio Fujita-san that day too."

"You know Yamamoto-san well?"

"Not really. She just keeps tabs on a lot of the old Bakufu and Aizu supporters. She likes to help people, but to be honest I find her kind of intimidating for a woman."

"I'd wager that's good instinct on your part, Iinuma-san."

"I plan on staying away from her. Fujita-san seemed nice. I find it hard to believe you're married."

"I get that a lot."

"Now if you had children I'd really be blown away."

"I do." Sadakichi stared wide eyed at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. "What's so damn funny?"

"Nothing," Sadakichi smiled impishly as he scratched the back of his head and looked away. Saito scowled and reached for his cigarettes. For a man in his thirties Sadakichi sure acted like a child, but then again he'd tried to commit seppuku at a tender age when most grown adults would have been too afraid to, even Saito was somewhat impressed with the Byakkotai's bravery and loyalty.

* * *

Japanese words this chapter:

Byakkotai-19 boys age 16-17 years old who committed suicide when they mistakenly thought Tsuruga Castle had fallen.

Kaiken-a dagger carried by samurai men and women. Useful for self-defense indoors when a katana and wakizashi were too inconvenient. Women carried them in their obi or in a brocade pouch with drawstrings for easy access. The kaiken was usually given to women as a wedding gift.

Lion Dance-a military tactic employed by Hiroshi Yamakawa during the war to get the troops into Tsuruga Castle. He disguised them as a marching band and snuck right pass the besiegers. Katamori himself was moved to tears and morale increased due to this brilliant ploy.

Sakaki-flowering evergreen tree native to Japan, Korea, and China.

Tomoe Gozen- late 12th century female warrior and concubine to Minamoto no Yoshinaka.


	69. Chapter 69: Tokyo, 1907, Part 1

Tatsuo stared at his hands, wondering if his hands resembled his father's. His Aunt Saku Ibuka was pouring tea for them. He watched her carefully, knowing if his mother had told anybody anything it was her. He drank the white tea without flinching, wondering how anyone could drink the stuff willingly.

"Aunt," she smiled in that way reminiscent of the Numazawa family in general and once again he felt the pang of not belonging to the only family he'd ever known. Kachiro teased him about sharing the trait, but Tatsuo knew when he looked into a mirror and smiled it wasn't anything akin to his families' way of smiling. There were many instances of dissimilarity he'd noticed growing up, little quirks that weren't right that he'd dismissed as a child but pondered laboriously as an adult.

"Yes, Tatsuo-san?"

"I was hoping you could help me."

"With what? You are always so independent that I can't imagine I have much to offer."

"You might have some information," he looked away from her sincere honest gaze and down at his knees. His chest felt unbearably tight. How could he say the next words and dispel the kind look from Saku's eyes?

"Tatsuo-san," she touched his hand, her smile gone as she became worried. Feeling suddenly that her worry was worse than any look she could have leveled at him for asking what he was about to, he inhaled and spoke the dreadful words, "Kachiro and Kuni aren't my parents, are they?"

He waited in horror as she remained frozen with the same expression, after a second she released his hand and stood. He watched dismally as she went to the shoji and peered outside. Her husband and children were playing outside and Saku, her voice as pleasant as ever, quietly asked them if they'd go to Kachiro's house and fetch his parents. He winced when she called them his parents and in anger at himself for such a reaction tore as his hair as Saku sat back down.

"Tatsuo-san, it isn't my place to speak to you of this. I was told in confidence and I will keep my silence. Wait until your parents get here."

"My parents," he looked away from her, "please, Aunt, you have to tell me the truth. Am I adopted?"

She went to stand but he grabbed her kimono sleeve, knocking the tray and spilling the lukewarm tea. "Saku, please, I need to know. Kachiro and Kuni won't tell me."

"Perhaps its better you don't know the truth. Did you ever consider that? Or how Kuni and Kachiro will feel?" Saku had tears in her eyes he noticed with some remorse.

He relaxed his grip on her arm and said weakly, "Did they ever think about me?"

"Tatsuo, that's all they did. You mean everything to your parents."

"Where they ever going to tell me?"

"I should clean up the tea," she mumbled with more than a dash of despair in her voice as she exited the room. He lowered his head, watching the tea spill over the edge of the tray and onto the tatami mat beneath. His head was pounding with a headache and his face felt hot. He could feel the tears pricking his eyes as Saku came back with a rag. She didn't acknowledge him as she drabbed at the spill.

"I'm sure they meant to tell you," she said after a moment's hesitation. "They never meant to cause you any distress."

"Did they think of that when they took me from my birthparents?"

"You are awful," she said angrily, looking more hurt than furious as she collected the tray and left the room once more.

He felt like a jerk for making her upset, but how else was he suppose to get answers? He'd danced around the truth with Kachiro and Kuni for years now, becoming angrier every time they evaded the truth he saw so clearly; this was his only option, his only way to get the truth he sought, even if getting it would hurt his aunt. She wasn't really his aunt, he reminded himself, but knowing this didn't diminish the guilt he felt at upsetting her.

How was he suppose to ease his own suffering without inflicting some in return? Either his questioning hurt Kachiro and Kuni or Saku. If he kept quiet he'd only hurt himself by bottling up all his frustration and pain. His parents had always taught him that if he couldn't act without harming someone he shouldn't do anything. This was different though, wasn't it? It was their fault for not telling him the truth; why was he the bad guy for wanting to know where he came from?

He pressed a hand to his face, feeling the dampness of his own tears and whipped them away. He couldn't deal with this. He stood and with much misgiving left through the shoji before Saku came back into the room or his parents showed up.

* * *

Saito scowled at the boy sitting on the riverbank. Whenever Tsutomu had a problem he'd sit beside the nearest riverbank and it seemed the stupid habit had passed from brother to brother. He pulled out a cigarette, debating if he should approach or not.

Tatsuo and he had what he termed a tentative relationship, Tatsuo didn't like him much and because of that they rarely talked when he visited. Saito for his part saw very little of himself in the boy, especially as he watched the boy in his youth; quick to cowardice, quick to flee, and even quicker to submit to the will of others he'd noted nothing in his youngest that deserved respect. Still being his son Saito had hoped the years would shape him into a man, they had not however changed him very much, but at least he had to endure only a short duration in his presence. Saito could only blame himself for the boy's failings; after all he'd not been there to assure the boy's moral upbringing and though Kuni and Kachiro had tried they had clearly not improved upon the unfortunate child.

He lit up a cigarette and awkwardly sat down on the bank beside him. His knee was killing him today and he judged that the grass wouldn't stain his clothing which was fortunate as Tokio didn't need any more work than was necessary.

"So," he began but the boy's brown eyes stopped him as they often did. Seeing Tokio's eyes in another's face always soften his resolve towards the boy's failings and Saito was determined not to be kind to the cowardly brat. "What are you running away from today?"

Tatsuo glared at the mocking tone he took and stared at the water. "It really has nothing to do with you, Goro-san."

"I think it does. Kuni will come over to talk to Tokio and my silly wife will want to get involved anyway. Tokio-san never learned to stay out of people's business."

"It appears you never learned it either," he said with some venom. Saito ignored the caustic remark, aware that his own bluntness often caused some reaction and instead waited patiently for an explanation. "If I wanted to air all my family problems don't you think I'd have started this conversation?"

"Not necessarily," he took a drag. He couldn't look at Tatsuo's face so he stared at the water. A fish leapt up and dove back down, rippling the serenity of the surface. Saito's image in the water rippled, becoming distorted before eventually settled calmly back to normalcy after the impact subsided. "Some seek guidance from others."

"I don't want your guidance."

"You find it distasteful?"

"What do I need guidance for?"

"All of us need guidance at some point in our lives, whether we realize it or not. When I was young I found my guidance through Bushido and to this day still do."

Tatsuo's face remained impassive, an impressive display of the Saito in him he reckoned, before the boy slumped his shoulders and bowed his head in Tokio fashion.

"I found out something that has turned my whole world upside down." He pressed the side of his hand to his mouth, taking deep breathes and looking anxiously at him. "It shouldn't have affected me so much. I feel like an idiot. I always knew and I thought when I found out I'm adopted it would be easy to get over. It's like announcing a bad grade on an assignment you know you did horribly on. The problem is I feel even more confused."

"You're adopted?" He tone was appropriately surprised, if not a bit subdued due to his usual nonchalant nature.

"Yes."

"I'm surprised Kachiro and Kuni had the guts."

"They didn't tell me. Saku did," when Saito stared blankly, Tatsuo clarified, "she's my aunt…or was… um…"

"I would imagine the situation is a difficult one."

"You've know idea," he stared at the water in frustration. "I feel horrible when I talk about Aunt Saku now. In the first place she's been my aunt my whole life and I love her like one, but how can I be honest to this new knowledge and my birthparents by insisting to call her my aunt? I'm just so confused. I can't even think about Kachiro and Kuni…"

Saito was silent, working over the problem in his mind to find some solution which might alleviate the stress of pleasing both parties. A simple solution not forthcoming he said tacitly, "She is your aunt whether you call her that or not and your birthparents should respect that. She was there for you and guided you through your life and should not be carelessly thrown aside. She may not have been as pivotal as Kachiro or Kuni, but she did her share. You would not struggle so much over a simple title if she'd done nothing to earn it."

"Goro-san," he frowned, "I…"

"I know we don't see eye to eye on much, but I should like us to have a better understanding of each other than we do currently. I know your opinion of me is lacking and I confess I think very little of you because of what I've seen, but I imagine some time getting better acquainted would mend that."

"I suppose."

"Join my family for dinner," Saito said as he rubbed out his cigarette, his unconsciously authoritative tone nixed any discussion of whether Tatsuo actually wanted to attend. "Midori-san's children enjoy hounding our guests, but Tokio makes good soba and Midori is well-meaning."

"I wouldn't mind that."

Tatsuo's surprised expression wasn't lost on Saito. Saito was sure the boy was more acquainted with his constant bluntness and bouts of extreme agitation than he was with his more forgiving side, thus his unfavorable impression had persisted unchecked. It was only one dinner after all, Saito reckoned, and that meant he could kick Tatsuo out if he turned out as bad as he feared. Given their brief conversation though, Saito's currently unchanged opinion was at least open to possibly being reevaluated.

* * *

Tokio smiled when they stepped into the house and greeted them warmly. Despite the gracious reception Tatsuo felt alienated and unease as he sat awkwardly on the zabuton. This home was inviting, the residents were mostly congenial, and the food no doubt good, but he knew his stress would all return when he arrived back at the Numazawa house. This set him on edge and Tokio, seemingly aware of his feelings, gave him space and a kindly smile as she poured his tea.

"Makoto-chan," Midori grabbed her from where she sat beside him, her fist still clutching the sleeve of his kimono. He stared at the stain of saliva on the sleeve of his kimono with some surprise (he was not accustomed to being around small children) and glanced at the child with reservation as he yanked his sleeve free.

She started crying and Midori took her from the room apologizing as she left. Saito made some annoyed complaint about Midori apologizing needlessly and Tokio, looking for a moment putout, regained that opportunistic way of hers as she refilled her husband's empty glass.

Morinosuke came over shortly after dinner, smiling that infectious grin as he sat down. "So I was busy reading."

"I didn't know you could."

"Shut it, Goro. I found this article and had to share it. Come here, sister." Tokio entered from the kitchen, rolling the sleeves of her kimono down and pushing wayward strands of hair from her face. She looked tired as she sat down, but there was something about her Tatsuo found worthy of respect. He may not have liked Goro overmuch but Tokio's maternal nature always reminded him of Kuni and now that he thought about it maybe that was why he enjoyed her company.

There was gray in her hair he noted with some shock; he hadn't known she was that old. He calculated in his head her approximate age and was somewhat surprised to find she must be sixty two, which meant Saito was sixty four years old. He could barely stomach the difference in his assumed age and the reality because the man hardly looked a day beyond fifty.

"This article I found in Dai Nihon Fujinroku was great. Tokio, birth year 1846, wife of Fujita Goro," Morinosuke rattled on the rest of the article as Tatsuo's mind wondered.

Tokio was smiling good humoredly as Saito, finding Morinosuke's rambling too much, left for a smoke. He relaxed a bite now that Saito was gone, letting his shoulders droop a little and rubbed his stiff neck. He was not use to the stiff posture the whole Fujita family practiced and though unaccustomed to the residents entirely he did feel better getting his mind away from his problems at home.

"Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms,

On Meadow-hills and mountains

As far as you can see.

Is it a mist, or clouds?

Fragrant in the morning sun."

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the strange prickling of deja vu he felt. The somberly sung lullaby and the lyrics seemed familiar. The inability to recall it nagged at him the longer he couldn't remember.

"What song is that?"

"Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms," Tokio, still caught up in reverie, ignored his inquiry and continued singing.

"Flowers in full bloom.

Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms,

Across the Spring sky,

As far as you can see.

Is it a mist, or clouds?

Fragrant in the air.

Come now, come,

Let's look, at last!"

"Singing that old tune like that brings back memories," Morinosuke said with a smile. "I bet you've started singing it to the grandchildren too."

"I have. Saito hates it, but I think it's charming and Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi loved it."

"I think I've heard it before."

"You have?"

"I don't know where though."

"It's somewhat popular I think," Tokio shrugged, "Do you think Kuni heard me singing it once and picked it up?"

"I don't know."

"What made you want to sing it just now, Tokio?"

"Well you were talking about my work at Amida-ji temple and that reminded me of the song."

"Nice."

"Actually I have this funny memory of me and Saito when we first met. It's kind of prophetic now that I look back."

"_Saito-san," Tokio greeted, gracing him with her infectious smile. "Do you enjoy the cherry blossoms?"_

"_They hold little interest for me," Saito replied._

"_I think the blossoms are very pretty, particularly entertaining when they fall. Do you find them to be pretty?"_

"_No."_

"_No?" She sported an amused look. "Do you at least not find the color pleasing?"_

"_What is there to like in a color? I've never understood the fascination some have with mere plants. The only interest I have in plants is if they will provide me with food. Such colorful ornamentation beckons no passion from me."_

"_Aw, but it did. You were passionately speaking against the love of flowers. I personally find flowers delightful. They are as diverse as humans."_

"_And here is where we proceed into a rant of comparing women to flowers, no?"_

_She laughed, her brown eyes glowing with delight at his expense. "You're completely right." She was taunting him and enjoying it far too much. _

"_Cherry blossoms are common, pretty to look at yet so fleeting with their beauty. They lack any real essence. Like Yaso and those women ahead of us."_

_Her eyes narrowed, "That is very harsh, Saito-san. You heap them all together and make rash generalizations based on your experience in the field of women. However all women are different and we have more layers than men think we do. You know none of them so well that you should be able to so freely disregard them."_

"_It is you who makes the assumptions, Tokio-san. Beauty in humans tends to wither away. A correct sentiment, is it not?"_

"_But of your comment that they lack essence?"_

_He smirked and Tokio had the impression that she was falling into some kind of trap. "An orange has one layer of skin and then the soft fleshy plump. An onion on the other hand is layers all the way through. Which is more captivating? A woman with one layer or a woman with many layers?" She ground her teeth together, turning her head away from his steady gaze. "Have you no answer?"_

"_I do, give me a moment. Why must one be more captivating then the other?"_

"_That is the way of things. Attraction is the natural law of things. One man may prefer the orange and another the onion. Is it so wrong that I prefer the onion over the orange?"_

"_No," she admitted finally._

_He grinned and she knew his trap wasn't over. "Of the flowers I do not dislike the cherry blossom. I find it tolerable and interesting to glance at but not a plant I'd put in my garden. I'd much prefer a different sort of flowering plant." He thought of a plant that suited his needs perfectly, "A wisteria is my ideal plant."_

_Her small lips frowned as she cocked her head a little to the left. Several wisps of dark hair fell out of her neat hair arrangement and caressed her face like the leaves of a wisteria brushing the flower petals. "Why a wisteria?"_

"_Not only do I find their coloring attractive, but their ability to grow and flourish with strong support is indeed an admirable quality. Wisteria is a versatile plant."_

"_They use a crutch to survive. Cherry blossoms need no help."_

"_Perhaps a crutch, as you so lovingly termed it, is not so bad as you think? Is it wrong for a woman to depend upon her family and friends for emotional support when the waters are high, hm? I'd rather have a leaning wisteria then a twisting cherry blossom any day."_

"_Hm," Kurasawa's house was just before them now. He had to finish this trap. He vaguely wondered if he was the one who'd been caught instead of her._

"_Tokio-san."_

"_Yes?"_

"_Do you know who reminds me of a wisteria?"_

"_Who?"_

"_You."_

"_So I'm no cherry blossom then?"_

"_No. I'd make you the centerpiece of my garden."_

"_The wife in your home," she asked teasingly, her eyes as serious as the lack of it in her tone._

_He smirked, "Perhaps."_

"Is he always like that?" Tatsuo asked when the tale was through.

"Oh yes," Tokio smiled, "that's what makes Goro so entertaining."

"Humph," Saito, standing in the entrance taking his scandals off, gave them a "what the hell are you three doing" look before coming over and retaking his seat. "End this conversation now."

"Yes, koishii."

"Good." For some reason Tatsuo felt like he'd missed something as the husband and wife regarded one another and Morinosuke, already so use to the feeling Tatsuo now felt, ignored the bickering couple and asked for a refill of his tea.

"Uncle Morinosuke," Tatsuo looked away abashedly as his uncle came outside, bidding the Fujita household goodnight.

"What is it, Tatsuo-chan?" He bit the inside of his cheek at the honorific and put his hands into his pockets.

"Why's Goro-san like that?"

"Grumpy?"

"Yes."

Morinosuke crossed his arms, his face shifting from his typical carefree to thoughtful. "I never understood why when I was younger, but I would say when you've endured as much in your life as Goro-san you get the right to be grumpy."

"What do you mean?" Tatsuo was woefully ignorant when it came to Goro's past and thinking on it he really didn't know much about his distant relatives' lives.

"It's not easy to explain. Goro-san has a long history. Ask him sometime and if he's feeling charitable he may drop a tidbit for you to chew on."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"I could I suppose. For many years he worked as a police inspector."

"Really?" He could definitely see that being possible; it actually explained a lot of things about Saito.

"Yeah, want to hear about the time Goro got shot?" Morinosuke got excited and Tatsuo listened eagerly as his uncle started ranting about the Satsuma Rebellion and plenty of things he'd never considered before of any importance before. Looking at them through Morinosuke's eyes made the events he'd only read about ten times more realistic. He could really see Saito and Morinosuke on the battlefield or in the infirmary.

He was reluctant to end the discussion when his uncle bid him goodnight. He stared at the shoji of his house with a racing heart. How could he go inside knowing when he awoke tomorrow Kuni and Kachiro were going to give him an earful? He took a step towards the shoji, but stopped, glancing down the street. Maybe he could go spend the night wandering around and visit a friend when morning rose. It would be better to avoid confrontation.

He was about to keep walking when the shoji opened and Kachiro came outside. His father looked tired as he stopped in his tracks and met his eyes. Tatsuo looked away, afraid of his reaction.

Kachiro approached, "Where were you?"

"I had dinner at the Fujita residence."

"Why that house?" His father's anxiety was written on his face.

"I was spending the day outside and Goro-san came upon me and invited me over. Why does it matter where I was?"

"Your mother and I have been worried sick about you. Have you any idea how stressful the last couple hours have been? We've searched everywhere for you after you left Saku's. Then you come home and say you were at the Fujita's home? What am I to think of that?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," Tatsuo glanced at his feet.

"Saku was very tightlipped about your meeting."

"She told me."

"We feared that."

"How's mother?"

"Sleeping."

"Did she cry…"

"What do you think?" Kachiro was seldom quick tempered, but the situation was hard on all of them and he supposed an emotional outburst was better than a disinterested lecture.

"Sorry."

"Ah, Tatsuo," Kachiro smiled stiffly and put an arm around his shoulder. "We can discuss everything tomorrow. I'm tired, son, how about you?"

"Exhausted," he smiled back, feeling grateful to have such a supportive father.

"Let's try not to wake Kuni, hm?"

"Right."

* * *

He could hear their voices in the other room as he rolled over onto his back. He blinked at the ceiling, pushing away the groggy sensation as he sat up onto his elbow and strained to hear the conversation.

"I'm just thankful Saku knows how to keep quiet," Kuni stated.

"We have to tell him."

"Can't we postpone it?"

"I don't think we can keep him in the dark any longer. He's an adult, has been for some time, and he's curious…he's every right to wonder about them…I hate it, Kuni," silence and some shuffling, "I hate it just as much as you do, but he needs to hear this from us."

"He's too senitivie."

"Kuni…"

"When he finds out, Kachiro, he's going to hate us for never telling him sooner. Every time we see other parents and their children he's going to look at me and know I deprived him of his childhood." He heard the grasping for breath that accompanied crying and felt like the worst person in the world for being the cause of her distress. Truly he wished an easy remedy existed, some miracle that would make him their legitimate son and make this pain vanish. If only…

"He's not going to think that. He's going to know we did our best and that's what matters."

"No, no," Kuni broke off and only the sound of her sobbing filled the house. Tatsuo picked up his nemaki and tied it quickly shut as he wobbled over to the shoji and exited the room to see the horrified grief-stricken faces of his parents.

"You're not horrible parents," he hugged her tightly, swearing, if only in his head, that even if he met his real parents he wouldn't ever love them more than Kuni and Kachiro. "I love you, mother."

"Tatsuo," he felt her nails digging into his arm and back and smiled. This was the unconditional love of a son for their mother he thought; nothing could replace or destroy this kind of loving bond. He found himself wondering how he'd feel about his birthmother; would the feelings be anything alike? He doubted it.

So when Kachiro said his parents were Goro and Tokio he couldn't have been more flabbergasted and distressed.


	70. Chapter 70: Tokyo, 1914, Part 1

Poor Kenshin! This was hard to write :( Enjoy R&R.

* * *

Kenji watched the crowded room of people with some misgiving. Why was everyone tolerating this? Even his mother, forceful though she was, was sitting gossiping with Misao as who knows what went on behind the shoji to his parents' bedroom. Kenji's knuckles tightly on his knees and he shared a nervous glance with Megumi. At least one person was as uncomfortable as he was about leaving his father alone with a Miburo.

"Relax," Aoshi said in that tranquil tone Kenji had often grown annoyed with.

"How can I knowing Saito's in there with my Otosan?" Silence descended on the group for a moment. Megumi looked anxiously at Kaoru who averted her gaze, Sano exchanged a look with Yahiko, and Misao tugged silently on Aoshi's kimono.

"Saito didn't come to finish a man on his deathbed." Aoshi's reminder stung every soul in the room. The thought that the great man who had kept the whole group together over the years was dying was unbearable to all those present. Even Aoshi, so unfazed by the world at large, hadn't felt so perturbed since his own men's passing.

"Still," Kenji feebly added, face etched with a son's terrified concern.

* * *

Saito noted the way Himura breathed in and out, each breath, each twitch of his hand laying so peacefully on the blanket, each rustle of his legs moving beneath the covers were horrifying telltale signs of looming death. Saito, who had become accustomed to death early on, observed every sign of weariness in Himura's body, if not his soul, with thin forbearance. His own hands, vibrant with life, made him anxious when he noted Himura's dim coloring.

"Aoshi informed me you wish to see me." It was fitting that it was Aoshi who had been sent, if only because Aoshi would be the only one strong enough to withstand the Wolf's bite when he heard the news.

The room hadn't heard human voice for the last five minutes, only swallow breathing, restless hands, and outside interference. Himura had lain prone for the most part, not bothering to acknowledge his presence (which was unlike him) and Saito had turned over what to say in his head during the quiet. Now he spoke with some sense of urgency, an urgency he hadn't known he'd felt until this moment and an urgency whose origin he couldn't place. Surely he had no reason to fear Himura dying on the spot and why should he fear that anyway? Himura wasn't someone Saito had expected to grief over so why was he uneasy over this sudden confrontation? Why did he feel as if he sat not on a comfortable mat but pins and needles if this meeting meant nothing?

"Saito," Himura whispered at last, his hand on the blanket shifted. "I'm glad you came."

"What do you want?" What could Himura possibly say to him after all these years? What needed to be said so badly that he needed to be summoned to the man's deathbed? Should he not spend his last moments surrounded by loved ones such as those who waited outside this very room?

"I wanted to…" Himura paused, his face lining as he stared in thought beyond Saito. "I want something I imagine you can't really offer."

"What?"

"Forgiveness." Saito glanced away, surprised by the desperate look on the rurouni's face. What platitudes could he possibly say to Himura? What had Himura even expected him to say? "Tomoe forgave me…but others…Shinsengumi soldiers I slayed and more. Will they forgive me?"

"How should I know?" He regretted his words after they flew from his lips. What person offered harshness to a man pleading for forgiveness at his most vulnerable moment? Himura, in his accustomed way, didn't give harshness back, but smiled as if he expected it of Saito, which he no doubt did.

"I have carved forgiveness my whole life for my crimes and have sought redemption for more years than I care to count." Himura closed his eyes, "I've had a happy life, but I feel ashamed that I lived to enjoy the bliss of the Meiji when so many others knew only the strife of the Bakumatsu."

"You couldn't have changed that. Centuries of strife happened before the Bakumatsu, idiot, you can't atone for the horrible lives others have lead."

"I know," Himura squeezed the blanket tightly, fist whitening as his hand trembled a little. "I've forgiven others and forgiven myself over the years and have come to terms with it… I imagine they will forgive me when I've overcome the hardest part of forgiving myself."

"Then why?"

"I haven't asked you here to absolve me of my sins that I haven't." Then he understood all the previous conversation; the forgiveness for killing wasn't for Himura's sake. That was so like the rurouni, he thought, and for some reason his response was to laugh.

* * *

Kenji leapt to his feet, a horrified expression in his eyes. The room transformed from tension and concern to mortified wonder. Hajime Saito was laughing in the next room. Kenji furiously slid the shoji open, taking one step into the room before pausing uncertainly. He hadn't seen his father laugh in weeks, but there he was, his mortal enemy sitting beside him, and he was laughing. Kenji felt suddenly sick to his stomach. How could his father laugh at a time like this? How could Saito? And why the hell did his father look so happy with his greatest enemy and not that way with his son? Saito was effortlessly taking what might be Kenshin's last happy moment and for Kenji, who endured weeks of his moping mother, their sad friends, and Kenshin's calm attitude towards his own death, could endure no more.

"What is wrong with you!" He screamed, shoulders shaking as he turned from the sight. He tried to ignore the shocked looks of the household as he fled outside. The day was ruthlessly warm and he paused a moment, debating in his head where he might go. He ended up in the dojo, shinai in hand, swinging as if his very life depended on it. He was glistening with sweat in all of five minutes and paused to check the growing stain around his armpit. He scowled, angry that he couldn't even relief a little stress by practicing his swordplay.

He sat cross legged, shinai balancing precariously on one knee, and closed his eyes. In his head the image of his father laughing beside Saito surface and taunted him. He tried to clear his head, pushing his hair from his face and tightening his topknot. He frowned at the polished floor of the dojo, clutching his knees with his hands.

How had things ended up so grim the last few months? Finding out about father's illness had been the first blow, then watching it progress and noting how mother's overly opportunist attitude gradually dimmed, his father's constant admonishments when he found him down… How could this all really be happening to him? Life had seemed nearly perfect before. He'd met a girl he could see himself with forever (a relationship he hoped would be as meaningful as his parents), his abilities as a swordsman had never been better, and he had great friends and family… How had everything turned from amazing to mind numbing and painful at every turn? The girl he'd found so endearing was away visiting family in Kyoto, his father was dying, his mother was breaking down inch by agonizing inch before his eyes, and his friends and family just made things worse by awkward socializing or questioning about Kenshin's condition. It was all just too much to bear. He lifted his head, staring angrily at the ceiling.

"Kenji?" He stared when Chizuru's kanoko and cheerful eyes entered his vision. He half turned as she sat down beside him. She looked even healthier than before she'd gone, a warm glow in her cheeks and brown coloring touched her skin pleasantly. Her hair had a bright gleam and her eyes bore a kindness that touched Kenji immeasurably.

"Chizuru," he mumbled, unable and unwilling to say more. How could he explain to her all that had changed in the few months she'd been away?

"It feels like I haven't seen you in forever," she said, her smile softening into a line. "Have you missed me?"

"Yes," he answered, feeling the usual slightly nervous sensation around her. He'd overcome it long ago, but at times of long separation it resurfaced. He fought for more words, but settled on nothing, anxious that everything important would come out at once and make little sense. This wasn't about him, or his father's imminent death, or his mother's poor coping. This was about Chizuru and him, he told himself, no need to burden her just yet with everything terrible going on.

"I've missed you too," she smiled, "though I suppose that's redundant."

"No, it's nice to hear something pleasant."

Her gaze shifted away from his, "I heard about your father."

"Who told you?"

"Yahiko."

"He needs to learn to keep quiet," he vowed to get revenge on Yahiko for this.

"I'm glad someone told me. I would have preferred you to have told me," her hand took his. He laced their fingers together, frowning at the remains of a small cut on her pointer finger. He touched it lightly with his pinky.

"I cut myself with a kitchen knife," she said to his unasked inquiry. "Kenji?"

"What?"

"How are you? Really I mean?"

He stood, staring at the distant wall of the dojo. "Not well."

"Is there anything I can do?" Her concern touched him, but he shook his head.

"If you can make Otosan better and help Okasan's deteriorating mind…"

"Kenji."

"We are dying with him," he kicked the bucket used for cleaning the floor of the dojo against the wall, breathing heavy as he turned around in a circle. Chizuru, hands anxiously clutching her kimono, watched apprehensively as he paced angrily.

"What are you angry at, Kenji?"

"Everything!" He screamed, hands sweeping his bangs back as he circled once more. He felt ashamed at his outburst, at his manners of late, at everything really.

"What are you really mad about?"

He looked at her with tears in his eyes. He pressed his hand to his mouth, fighting desperately not to cry. Chizuru stood and embraced him, her arms warm and her voice soft and sweet. He collapsed against her, digging his fingers into her back and silky hair.

"I can't do anything!" Ever since he'd been young he'd been gifted with his father's abilities with the sword, with genius they'd called it, but he'd never had a reason to use his abilities. The age of the sword was gone and Kenji, stuck between two worlds, floundered where his parents thrived. All his life he'd felt inadequate. The sword, which he processed such skill in was inconsequential so he'd never climb to the height of renown his father had known nor open a swordsmanship school of promise like his mother. He feared he'd never do anything of importance with or without the sword; he wouldn't be a great doctor like Megumi. He wasn't going to help anybody and that hurt. He couldn't even do anything for his father. Watching Megumi tend to Kenshin, his mother's constant loving company, Sano's jokes, they all did what they could to soothe him before he would be gone and Kenji, stuck on the outside in horror, knew of no way to be there for him. He left like a child and hid in the dojo because he knew he was better off not being there.

"Kenji," Chizuru pulled out of his arms, smiling halfheartedly as she touched his face. For a moment Kenji could only stare dumbly, struck by how pretty she was and how concerned she looked. He swallowed tightly, hating the feeling of dried tears on his cheeks.

"Chizuru," staring into her eyes he saw the same look his mother always gave his father. He smiled and wondered if Chizuru wasn't the person who could give his life meaning as he said, "I love you." He kissed her, aware of how fast his heart was pounding and afraid she'd reject him, but when her surprise gave way and she kissed him back Kenji felt, for the first time in months, a new sense of hope.

* * *

Saito watched the procession slowly start to diminish. The burial had taken place over ten minutes ago and those closest to Kenshin Himura had stayed for one reason or another. Sagara had sat beneath the nearest tree when the distant friends left, a bottle of sake in hand, and Aoshi across from him. The two clearly had no intention of leaving soon. Kamiya, weeping the entire ceremony, now sat before the grave site dry eyed and speaking as if to Kenshin himself. Takani was standing to the left with weasel and the girl's usually ambivalent tone was somber as they talked. Himura's offspring had watched the ceremony without shedding a tear, but when the first dirt had been flung onto his urn had wept like a child before running off.

Saito lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. It was a very strange idea that Himura was dead. It seemed unthinkable and if he hadn't seen Himura with his own eyes days ago he wouldn't have believed it possible. The group stayed for some time, he imagined mostly reminiscing and honoring Kenshin's memory. When they had all gone he was about to approach until he spotted the red hair of Kenji. The boy dropped onto his knees before the grave, cursing and yelling some nonsense Saito couldn't quite make out. He watched with mixed emotions as the boy raged at his dead father and wondered if his own sons would act that way at his passing.

He gave a "humph" and rationalized that his sons wouldn't act that way when he passed because he had raised them to behave themselves. Kenji had been left too often in the care of that Kamiya girl, Myojin brat, and Sano. Watching the boy he could only ponder why Kenshin hadn't bothered to put him at ease before going. Had he not realized how distraught he was? Or had Kenshin, fool that he was, figured the boy would come around on his own as Kenshin had in his youth?

When Kenji lay spent on the ground he approached, dropping his cigarette into the darkness. Kenji stared vacantly at him as he stood over his father's grave.

"Feel better?"

"Go away."

"I've come to pay my respects."

"You didn't come to the ceremony."

"I wasn't welcomed."

"Still."

"Would Himura have wanted me to come?" He raised a brow but Kenji, defeated in more ways than one, turned his head away. Saito mused, reminded by his looks if not his personality, that Himura had left behind more than just a legacy with the sword.

"What do you want? If you'd wanted to respect my Otosan you would have came after I'd left." The boy certainly had that edgy wit of the Battousai and the flaming red hair.

He shrugged, "I was curious as to what that idiot might have done to drive you to desecrate his grave."

"I didn't desecrate anything."

"You seemed ready to."

Kenji sat up from where he'd laid in exhaustion a moment ago, brushing dirt from his hair and kimono. He stared, with those same eyes, once so cold in Battousai and so understanding in the rurouni. In the boy they interchanged between afraid and miserable, neither of which he'd ever seen in Himura.

"I'm upset about a lot of things. He didn't say goodbye to me, just smiled in that way of his as he held Okasan's hand. He didn't bother to see how much it hurt me! I don't understand how he could go."

"You are stupider than Sagara if you think he didn't see your pain and care. Himura cared about everyone."

"It didn't feel that way."

"Perhaps you were too wrapped up in your own emotions that you ignored his. Himura is dead," Saito met his eyes, amber piercing wavering violet-blue. "He must have known leaving would be tough on everyone left behind, he'd endured countless deaths himself, but he knew it would be hardest on Kaoru. He figured you'd be fine in the end."

"He was my Otosan," tears spilled forth and the boy, so like his own sons, ducked his head and used his sleeve to dry his face. "He should have told me those things."

"Every Otosan is proud of their son and sometimes, knowing your son is strong and able, you don't realize you need to say those things." He thought of Tsutomu's leaving, of Tsuyoshi's departure, and Tatsuo's withdrawn attitude since he'd discovered he was his father. There were things, he realized now, he might have done differently, things they wanted to hear he hadn't put into words, and he felt regret for the first time in a long time.

"It hurts."

"I know. Kenshin didn't know, how could he have when neither of you bothered speaking of it? Forgive him his human failing and love him for all the things he did right instead."

Kenji, eyes wide, stared at him with astonishment before his look transformed into amusement. Kenji, he realized, had never seen this side of him and he cursed himself for displaying it.

"No one ever said you were a softie, Saito." He glared, which gave the boy pause, before hitting the boy on the head.

"Don't say stupid things."

"Saito?"

"Yes?"

"Did you hate him?"

"Once," he stated honestly, knowing Kenji well enough to know he was like his mother in that he expected truthful answers. "During the bloody nights when I found a dead solider of the Shinsengumi and heard it was Battousai, when we fought within an inch of each others lives, when he assassinated politicians we could have saved I hated him then. But seeing him in the Meiji era… I didn't hate the rurouni, he was just fairly useless. In fact I admired the Battousai," he didn't add that he might have even admired the rurouni a little too.

Kenji smiled genuinely and Saito, not having seen such warmth in the boy, lit another cigarette and smirked.

* * *

Tazu was a pretty girl he supposed as he watched Tatsuo pledge his marriage vows to her. Kuni and Kachiro sat up front as Tokio, Tsutomu, Midori and children sat to their left with Tsuyoshi. Tsuyoshi's wife, Yuki Asaba, granddaughter of former Aizu clan elder Tanaka Tosa, was a beauty. Saito also liked that Yuki was an Aizu native. Their eldest son Hidaki sat uncomfortably, fidgeting throughout the ceremony. Tazu's family ran a delivery service in Yokusuka, which though not affiliated with Aizu, he supposed was permissible.

When the ceremony concluded he left to go smoke. The day was pleasant, he thought, as he lit a cigarette and stared up into the sky.

"Grandpa!" He turned with little enthusiasm, recognizing Hidaki's wail.

"What?" He snapped, giving his iciest glare. Most of his grandchildren knew to back away when he glared, but poor Hidaki, much to Saito's agitation, had never learned common sense.

"Grandpa that was boring!" He shrieked as he grabbed onto his pant leg. Saito regarded the grubby child with frustration, taking a drag as he leaned down and blew it into his face. Hidaki released him to cough and make a silly face. Saito took his moment of distract to distance himself.

Hidaki, undaunted by his grandfather's actions, tried to reach for him again. Saito used the tree to dodge the brat. Hidaki, unrelenting much like himself, pursued him around the tree as if they were playing. Saito, beyond annoyed, grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up.

"Stop."

"Play with me."

"No. Find Motoko or Minoru."

"They were with Tsutomu. I want to play with you!"

"Where's Ritsu then?" Tsutomu's children, eight all together, were meant to be Hidaki's playmates, not him he thought forlornly.

"Playing with Kyoko and Susumu."

"And Kazuko and Toru?"

"I don't know." Giving up he dropped the boy on his feet.

"I don't play games," he was too old to play games and though he wouldn't admit it his health put a damper on any physical activities also.

"Then do something funny."

"Like what?" He wasn't about to oblige him but if he kept him preoccupied with chat his mother or someone would eventually come outside looking for him and take him blissfully away.

"I don't know. Otosan always makes funny faces at me. Kazuko sings and Toru's does imitations."

"No."

"Tell a story. Kyoko does stories."

He scowled as he sat underneath the tree. "A story, humph."

"Yes!" Hidaki settled into his lap, resting his head on his arm. Saito, vexed, tried to think up an appropriate story. Settling on one that was just right he began to tell the tale.

"_I don't see why I need to learn swordsmanship," Minoru complained to his father as they walked home._

"_It is useful."_

"_How?"_

"_It teaches discipline to unruly brats like you," Saito responded. Tsutomu smiled and nodded in agreement. _

_Minoru crossed his arms, "I don't want to learn."_

_They exchanged knowing glances; Minoru had been saying he didn't want to learn swordsmanship since he was seven. Saito glanced to his left and noted the man dressed in dark blue once more. He had been following them since they'd picked up the rice from Morinosuke's. _

"_Tsutomu," his son gave him a concerned look at the tone he'd used. "Take Minoru on ahead."_

"_Why?"_

"_Just listen would you, idiot?"_

"_I don't see why we should leave you. We'll be home soon enough."_

"_Stop acting like Minoru and obey me, Tsutomu." Tsutomu, seeing he was serious, resigned, and taking Minoru's hand started walking faster as Saito stopped. He took his cigarettes out and pulled out a stick such as the man in blue got within sight._

"_Hajime Saito, Captain of the Third Unit of the Shinsengumi?"_

"_Goro Fujita, retired police officer, museum guard, and clerk." _

"_Like hell you are. I've come here to kill you."_

"_Rather dramatic, aren't you?" Saito lit his cigarette as the man, tall and bald and rather nasty looking, glared at him. "If no one has managed to kill me yet, what makes you think you can?" _

_He gave his most pleasant Goro Fujita smile, hoping the fool would see sense at the last moment and leave. They never did though. With a yell the man lunged at him, sword drawn and waving wildly. Saito dodged effortlessly and drew his katana. Steel met steel, resounding on the silent path. Saito, knowing Tokio would be annoyed if he was late for dinner and that he'd get lectured at later for it, resolved to end this quickly. Though he'd given up Aku Soku Zan and didn't pursue evil as he had before he still didn't hesitate to kill those fools that went after him with evil intent._

_He dodged the next attack and prepared to Gatotsu the fool when his knee, bastard that it habitually was, gave out. Cursing his luck he blocked the bald man's next attack and pushed him away. Trying to rise proved too much for his old body and he was stuck, willing his knee to work as his enemy, sword seeking his blood, came dangerously close. He used what strength remained in his good leg to roll away and try to get up again. All he needed was for his leg to stand for a moment so he could Gatotsu the idiot into oblivion. He parried the next attack, desperately hoping his leg would give him one last burst of energy. When done was forthcoming, he readied his sword and prepared, like a brave Shinsengumi Captain that he really was, to fight to the death, even if that death was his own. He'd always expected to die on the battlefield anyway, just not as an old man and because his body gave out._

_He saw the wooden box hit the man in the head with some confusion before he spotted little Minoru, panting heavy and looking scared out of his mind, standing just behind his attacker._

"_Minoru!" He stared at his grandson, mortified that he, weaponless expect for a wooden box, had attacked a grown man with a sword. Tsutomu, as grandfather and grandson regarded each other, grabbed the sword from the passed out swordsman. He ripped the cloth of his kimono and began tying up the assailant._

"_I'll take him to the station and give a full report," Tsutomu said as he picked Minoru up and looked him over. "Don't you ever do anything like that again! I told you I'd handle it!"_

"_But grandpa needed me!"_

"_I don't care."_

_Minoru, on the verge of crying, stopped when Saito placed a hand on his head._

"_Do you see how useful swordsmanship can be now?" Minoru smiled and embraced him._

"_I promise I'll practice every day!"_

"_Look, Minoru, your grandma," Tsutomu said with a chuckle. "Your knee huh?"_

"_That was a good idea. Wake him up."_

"_Nagakura?"_

"_I was enjoying my nap," Shinpachi said as he sat up. "Brat gone, eh?"_

"_Yes. Thank you for indulging us, Nagakura-san," Tsutomu said. "Minoru hasn't ever taken his training seriously so I'm glad this has helped."_

"_No problem. I don't mind. Kids these days don't understand how useful a good sword arm can be."_

"_That's right," Saito said with a smirk. "Let's go for some sake. Let Tokio know, Tsutomu."_

"_Fine, but don't stay out too late, Otosan."_

"_Humph."_

"You tricked Minoru!" Hidaki had admired Minoru because he was the oldest his whole life.

"We did. Now there is your mother." Yuki gave him an apologetic smile, knowing he disliked too much time with the little ones. In honest it was fun manipulating the gullible brats.

* * *

**Japanese Word to know:**

Kanoko/Tegara-traditional Japanese hair tie.


End file.
